Eternal Fight
by oscarpaz00
Summary: A terrible attack. A new, mysterious menace. Harry, Ron and Hermione must fight again to keep what they have worked so hard to get. The cost of failing is terrible, but the price of winning may be too much.
1. A Tale of Love and Hate

I'm here again! It's been almost a year since I started publishing **'Those Four Last Days of the War'**. Those of you who loved that story, I hope you love this one as well. Those of you who didn't, well, I hope you like this one better.

I'm very glad to be back as a writer, because I feel that lately the number of new R/Hr fanfics is decreasing. Authors out there, don't let this fandom die, okay? I think a part of me (of us all) would die with it.

As I did with TFLDotW, I completed it before posting it. I'm just revising the final chapters. If you want to know, yes, it's longer than TFLDotW.

This story follows DH, except for the Epilogue. It starts seven years after the end of the war, in November, 2005.

As you see, this is rated M. There is sex in here, yes, and, at some points, very intense (and sometimes graphic) violence. So if this is not your thing, I'd suggest you to leave. If you keep reading, expect romance, mystery, a little humour, and lots of drama.

Just for you to know, the story is split in three parts. The first is the longest. As with TFLDotW, my intention is to post every 2-4 days, except between parts. I plan to leave you hanging for a week or so in those cases.

Like last year, I have my holidays in August, so I may update a bit slower from the 6th to the 26th, but still, expect, at least, a chapter every week (probably more).

I want to thank **Kathy** (**ObsessedRHShipper**) for her wonderful work, not only as my beta, but in other fics I love. One day we will build you a monument.

This story is mainly dedicated to three people:

-**My girlfriend**, for being my inspiration in love and for dealing with my Harry Potter obsession.

-**Livi**, for being a lovely insufferable little sister.

-And **Romina**, for being a wonderful friend in the distance and ... well, just for being you, which is the best compliment I can give.

Enjoy the journey.

* * *

**PART I**

**TALES OF NEW MYSTERIES**

_**Chapter 1**_

**A Tale of Love and Hate**

* * *

"_Crucio!_"

Still shocked and acting more due to instinct than actual thinking, Hermione threw herself behind the couch, and just a moment later she felt the curse soar above her and hit one of the shelves, shattering it to pieces and causing a lot of books and photograph frames to scatter on the floor.

This could not be happening. It was impossible.

Gripping her wand tightly, she rose until she could look at the entrance of her house over the back of the couch. With almost no time to prepare herself or to aim, she moved her wand and yelled, "_Stupefy!_" Three of the men threw themselves to one side, but the fourth cast a quick Shield Charm and blocked the spell.

"Ah, the Mudblood likes to play! Don't you, bitch?" the man asked with a sneer. Then, he slashed his wand angrily and shot a curse that set the couch on fire. Screaming, Hermione jumped backwards, barely escaping the sudden, hungry flames; but, at the same time, she managed to throw another strong hex at the man, and this time he had to move to the side to dodge it.

Thinking as fast as she was able, she weighed her options and realised that she was not going to be able to beat the four of them in a clear space like the living room. Without the couch she had nowhere to hide, so she had to gain some time and seek refuge in another room where she could defend herself better.

"_Fumus!_" she yelled, pointing at the entrance, where the three men that had thrown themselves onto the floor seconds before were getting up, ready to attack her. Instantly, something like a ball of black smoke flew quickly from the tip of her wand towards the entrance, where it suddenly expanded, making her enemies cough and blinding them.

She knew that her chances of reaching the kitchen and the back door that lead to the garden were slim. So she ran, as fast as she could, towards the stairs leading to the second floor and started to climb them, quickly casting a Shield Charm to protect herself from the curses flying from inside the expanding smoke-filled zone in the living room.

"GET HER!" she heard one of the men yell between coughs. Trying to control her fears, she sped up and, at the instant she reached the top of the stairs, spun around and shot a Blasting Curse.

She heard her attackers let out a scream of terror just before the spell collided with the floor, causing an immediate explosion that shook the entire house. She saw one of the men fly through the air due to the force of the blast, then hit a wall with tremendous force and finally crumple onto the floor, unconscious or dead. And the sight caused her to feel a strange satisfaction she hadn't felt ever before. However, she didn't stop to see if she had injured or killed the others, but ran towards her bedroom. It was at the end of the corridor and she would have an unobstructed view of it from there. Besides, the narrowness of the hallway would annul the numeric advantage of the dark wizards attacking her.

Once there, the first thing she did was to try to Disapparate to the Burrow. She couldn't, however, and realised that the Death Eaters must have put the Anti-Disapparition Jinx on the house. She was trapped — trapped inside her own home, inside the place where she should feel the safest.

She almost closed the door, leaving just a tiny gap from which she could peek into the corridor and throw any spell she needed to protect herself. Still terribly frightened, she tried to compose herself and think straight about what was happening and how she was going to get out of this mess.

A group of what looked like Death Eaters had trapped her in her own house. How was that possible? The war had ended seven years ago. The Death Eaters were in prison; Ron, Harry and Neville had seen to that. Things like this were not supposed to happen anymore. Besides, how had the Death Eaters broken into her house? She and Ron together had put so many protective charms around it Voldemort himself would have had trouble breaking them. And yet, she had been caught completely by surprise, and only her good reflexes, quick spell-casting and all the training she had got during her years at Hogwarts and the time on the run with Ron and Harry had saved her.

"Find her!" she heard one of the Death Eaters yell downstairs. It was the same one that had tried to burn her alive. He seemed to be their leader.

"How's Pucey?" she heard another of them ask.

"That isn't important!" the leader yelled. "We have to get her before Weasley and Potter come here! That's our mission and it is the only thing that matters!"

_Mission?_ thought Hermione. So this wasn't just an attempt to get revenge on her for what she had done during the war? This was a plan made by someone?

She stopped thinking about that when she heard footsteps at the top of the stairs. Quickly, she looked through the doorway and shot another Blasting Curse down the corridor. One of the Death Eaters was already on the second floor, opening the door that led to the bathroom. He spun rapidly upon hearing the incantation, and tried to block the curse. He achieved it, but only partially, so the streak was deviated and instead of hitting him, it hit the wall near the bathroom door. The force of the explosion destroyed the wall and sent him towards the staircase, where he collided with a second Death Eater who was climbing up and both of them fell crashing down the stairs, cursing and yelling in pain.

Hermione frowned in concentration. She had never, ever wanted to kill anybody. Even during the days of the war, even during the battle of Hogwarts, she had never attempted to take a life, but things were completely different now. Things had changed and, if she had to, she would do it; she would kill without hesitation. These men didn't know what she was capable of now.

She would do anything — _anything!_ — to protect the life that was growing inside her, that little being she and Ron had created with their love. They both had fought so much to get the life they now had, to have their own family, to ensure the safety and happiness of their future children, and she was not going to give that up without a fight.

Unable to prevent it, she found herself reliving that time, almost two months ago, when she had told Ron that they were going to be parents. For just a moment, she saw Ron's shocked expression, filled with incredulity. She remembered the way he had said, in a hoarse, low and trembling voice, "I — I am going to be a dad? _Me_? I mean —_we are going to have a child?"_ And she had nodded, feeling a bit unsure, but just a moment later, the most amazing smile had filled his face completely, making him almost glow with happiness. And then he had run at her and had embraced and spun her around in the air, both laughing hysterically, before he had taken her to their bedroom, where he had made love to her sweetly and passionately at the same time, causing her to burst with pleasure and happiness.

She had never felt more complete.

She blinked several times, forcing herself to forget that and focus on the problem at hand. She had fought so much to have what she now had, and she was not going to let some bastards take it from her. She just needed to keep them at bay until Ron got home. He had to be about to arrive and —

Her face filled with an expression of sheer terror.

He would enter the house carelessly, and the moment he did, he would be a clear target to several Death Eaters. She needed to warn him, to tell him to come home and to bring help, but how? Pig was in his cage, downstairs. How was she going to —?

She opened her eyes wide, almost slapping herself inwardly. How could she have forgotten? Her _Patronus_!

Looking once more through the door to be sure the Death Eaters had not tried to climb up the stairs again, she raised her wand.

"_Expecto Pat—"_

A terrible explosion shook the house, and she felt the floor under her crumble and fall, taking her with it. She fell on her back, hard, over split pieces of wood, screaming in pain when they pricked her flesh and cut her skin. Several pieces of wood and other rubble fell on her. Instinctively, she put her arms around her belly to protect her baby, and then she realised she had lost her wand during her fall. It must be hidden among the debris that covered the floor, but where? She was immobile and hurt, and without the wand, defenceless.

She looked around, trying to find it despite the pain, coughing due to the dust that filled the air, and noticed she had fallen into the study, which was located just under the master bedroom. Opening her eyes wide in terror, she noticed she had fallen just two feet from her desk. Had she been a few feet into the bedroom instead of next to the door, she would have fallen on it and, most surely, would have broken her neck or her spine.

"Look at you," said a contemptuous voice then, drawing her attention. She turned her head quickly and looked towards the doorway, or to where the doorway had been, because part of that wall was now destroyed. Through the dissipating dust that filled the air, she saw the leader of the Death Eaters, who was watching her with evident hate and no less evident pleasure. Behind him, she could see the two men that had fallen down the stairs. They had some injuries, but looked way healthier than she. Hermione could appreciate that they were in their twenties, like her, but couldn't tell whether she had seen them at Hogwarts or not. They had dirty hair and yellow teeth and their faces were covered with stubble, making them look like the type of dark wizards that used to lurk in Knockturn Alley in darker times. The leader, on the other hand, was clearly in his thirties, maybe near his forties, but looked much more respectable and wealthier. His robes seemed more expensive, and his hair was clean and neat. It was also very short, a feature that accentuated in a negative way the roughness of his square face, which was completely shaven. He was a bit taller than his subordinates, though he was thinner. But what really drew Hermione attention was his dark eyes, cold and filled with hate.

He moved forwards until he stood in front of her, and Hermione tried to move backwards, something that only caused her more pain. He let out a small and humourless laugh, and then pointed his wand at her.

"_Crucio!_" he yelled, and immediately she felt a surge of pain she hadn't experienced since that horrible day in Malfoy Manor, more than six years ago. But back then Harry and Ron had saved her ... and now she was alone.

After thirty agonising seconds, the man lifted the curse. She started to sob almost immediately, though not just because of the pain. What would this curse do to her child?

"Please, please, stop —" she begged, trying again to get away from her torturers.

The three Death Eaters watched her move across the floor of the room, a room that was the largest of the house, what with all the books she had, and laughed cruelly.

"D'you like it, Mudblood?" one of the other men said, sneering. "You almost killed me, but don't worry, you'll regret it. We'll teach you your proper place before doing you in. You'll learn to beg and plead; be sure of it."

She closed her eyes in pain. _Mudblood_. How long it had been since anyone had called her that! They — Harry, Ron and she, alongside many others — had fought so hard, during the war and afterwards, at the Ministry, to eradicate all those prejudices, and it had been for nothing. There was still so much hate; she only had to look at these men's faces to see it. Hate never ended, it seemed. Hate was eternal.

Moaning, she tried to slither backwards across the floor. The only thing that mattered was getting away from these men.

"Where do you think you're going?" the leader asked, moving towards her slowly, followed by the other two. "There's no escape for you. You can't Disapparate. You put up a good fight; yes, I admit it. But now you're disarmed, you pathetic creature."

"Ron and Harry will catch you, and they'll kill you, wherever you are," she said, feeling tears well up in her eyes. It hurt just to think about them, knowing that, probably, she wouldn't see them ever again.

To her surprise, the leader laughed, and nodded towards one of the others, who smiled cruelly and, approaching her, kicked her hard in her stomach.

The pain made Hermione bend over on the floor and scream like mad. She put her arms around her belly and curled, trying to protect her unborn child.

"PLEASE!" she yelled desperately. "PLEASE, NO!"

The man laughed again and threw another kick at her, with even more force than the first time. His boot collided with her forearms, breaking the right one. She winced in pain, but even so she didn't move them away. She had to protect her child - her and Ron's child. That was the only thing that mattered.

"Weasley is going to get us, Mudblood?" the leader asked, half-laughing with obvious pleasure at her pain and suffering. "Do you think he'll be able to do anything when he finds out that his wife and child are gone?"

Oh, Merlin! They knew that she was pregnant! But — how? They had only informed the family; no one else knew. How had these men found out?

"PLEASE, my child!" she begged, crying. "My child, please."

"Please what, Mudblood?" the man who had kicked her asked. "Come on, beg! Good to see you've learnt your proper place! Beg, you Muggle whore!"

"Please ..." she said, knowing that it was useless, that she was just giving them what they wanted, the pleasure of seeing her, a war hero, a Muggleborn, a _Mudblood_, begging, before actually killing her. But she had to beg; she had to do it for her child. Her pride was nothing compared to that.

_Please, Ron_, she thought desperately. _Please, help me. Please, come home and help me and our child. Please, Ron._

"Please what, Mudblood?" the man repeated, becoming impatient. "Tell us. Tell us what you want," he encouraged in a fake caring tone that was just another way of mocking her.

"Please ... don't kill my child. Hasn't done anything. It is innocent. _Please_."

"'Hasn't_ done anything'_?" repeated the leader in a soft voice. It was as if he couldn't believe she didn't understand their reasons to do what they were doing. "Do you think that being the offspring of a Mudblood and a Blood traitor is not enough? Isn't there a Muggle saying that goes something like, 'the sons will bear the sins of the parents?'"

"Please ..." was the only thing she could reply.

"Say goodbye, Mudblood," the leader said, pointing his wand at her. "Say it now, because for the next few minutes the only sounds that'll escape your mouth are going to be screams. And after that, you'll be gone for good. This will show you bunch of pathetic heroes, that despite your victory seven years ago, you didn't win the war. You can never win."

Hermione tried to prepare herself for the pain she was going to experience, when, suddenly, she sensed some change in the room. It wasn't a sound, or a smell, or even something that could be perceived in the air.

She could have sworn that she had felt it in her soul.

Her eyes snapped open, and, not knowing why, she looked past the semicircle of men surrounding her, at the shelves in the other end of the room, and she saw it.

Four yards behind the Death Eater's leader, a figure covered entirely in a black cloak was standing, completely still, next to one of the shelves, and, apparently, none of her attackers had noticed his presence, though she couldn't understand how that was possible. The person under the cloak couldn't have walked into the room without the Death Eaters hearing them, and it was impossible to Apparate or Disapparate into the house. And even if it was possible, they would have heard the noise, wouldn't they?

But the truth was that the three men were oblivious to that presence, and, with a cruel smile and his eyes gleaming with pleasure and hate, the leader of the group started to say, "_Cru—!_"

"I think that's enough, you sick bastards," the cloaked figure said, interrupting him at once. With a start, the three Death Eaters wheeled around and faced the man, instinctively pointing their wands at him.

"Who the hell are you!" the leader asked menacingly, though, Hermione realised, he seemed worried about this sudden presence they had failed to notice. "How did you get in here?"

The man didn't answer. Instead, he simply gave a few steps towards the Death Eaters at a slow pace. Hermione observed him for a moment, bewildered, before regaining her senses and realising that she had to use this distraction to her advantage. Trying to ignore the pain in her back, her legs and her arms and the sharp pains she felt in her abdomen, she glided slowly over the floor. She had to try and find her wand —

"Don't move!" she heard the man who had kicked her tell the cloaked stranger.

But he didn't stop, instead he continued walking very slowly towards them.

"_Stupefy!_" the Death Eater yelled without more warnings. Hermione stopped, frozen, and watched the red streak of light soar towards the cloaked man, suddenly feeling as if the time had expanded, or become incredibly slow, because it was as if everything was happening in slow motion.

The cloaked man didn't even flinch when he heard the Death Eater mutter the spell and saw it flying towards him. It hit him squarely in the chest, and Hermione exhaled a sigh, expecting to see him fall onto the floor. But, to her immense surprise, nothing happened. The cloaked man didn't even stagger; it was as if nothing had hit him at all. Completely shocked, the Death Eater that had thrown the spell started to say, "What the hell?" but couldn't complete the sentence. Moving like a lightning bolt, the stranger grabbed the front of the Death Eater robes and, with unbelievable easiness, threw him towards the farthest wall with astounding force. Hermione saw his body soar through the air at great speed and then hit the wall with a loud 'THUD' before crumpling onto the floor, unconscious.

The other Death Eaters took a step back, shocked by the stranger's speed and how the events had turned against them, and both shot two Killing Curses against their enemy. But — again, with astonishing agility — he dodged them with a graceful move. At the same time, he moved his left hand, with its palm flat out, towards the other henchman. He didn't even touch him, but the Death Eater was suddenly thrown backwards with such force he could have been struck by a Muggle truck. He hit a shelf, shattering it completely, and dropped onto the floor under a pile of books and pieces of wood.

Seeing that, the leader of the Death Eaters retreated, now visibly scared, as he threw sideway glances, obviously looking for a way to escape.

"Who are you?" he asked, frightened. "_What _are you?"

"I am your worst nightmare," the cloaked man said, a hint of rage in his voice, and advanced upon him.

The Death Eater gave two more steps backwards and then spun around quickly, trying to make his escape through the half-demolished wall of the study.

The cloaked man didn't even attempt to catch him. He simply raised his left hand, outstretched his arm a bit towards the Death Eater and then clenched his fist as if grabbing something.

At the same moment, the Death Eater froze on the spot, as held by a powerful and invisible force. Hermione saw his eyes become the size of saucers and then he opened his mouth, as if he wanted to let out a scream that never came, and then dropped unceremoniously onto the floor like his accomplices.

Feeling an extraordinarily comforting and yet draining relief, Hermione lay on the floor and started to sob. She had been able to ignore it during the amazing and unbelievably short battle between the cloaked man and the Death Eaters, but now she could feel again the pain in her body, especially her abdomen. Her right forearm hurt like hell, too, but, despite that, she put them both protectively over her belly.

"My baby ..." she cried, praying. "My baby ..."

"You'll be fine," she heard the stranger say.

She opened her eyes and saw that he had crouched down right beside her. His voice was now more tender and softer, even caring. There was something familiar in it, and yet she couldn't recognise it.

"It hurts," Hermione moaned. "Please, I need help. You have to call St. Mungo's. I am pregnant and they kicked me in the abdomen. I think I might be suffering a miscarriage." The simple act of saying that word out loud made her feel sick.

"I know," the man said. "But you don't have to worry; everything will be okay, Hermione. I promise."

"How —?" she started to ask, but stopped mid-sentence when she felt the man put his right hand, covered by a leather glove, over her stomach. An instant later, she felt an odd warmth spread through her body, and, almost immediately, the sharp pains stopped. Astonished, she saw him move his hand towards her broken forearm next, and when he touched it the pain there disappeared as well.

"What did you —?" she started to ask, amazed. "How —?"

"It doesn't matter," he said. "You're all right now. Your baby is all right, Hermione. You daughter is perfectly fine; don't worry."

"Daughter?" she asked, taken aback. She didn't know the sex of the baby. They hadn't asked. "How do you know it is a girl?"

"I know," was the only answer, and she could almost _feel_ a smile on his hidden face. "You don't have to worry; you're safe now. Harry and Ron are on their way; they'll be here soon. Right now, you just need to rest."

"Rest?" she repeated. "No! I need to know — who are you? What's your name?" she asked. Even though she didn't understand how, she felt that the cloaked man was right, and that her child was going to be all right. And with that worry out of her mind, she felt her curiosity about the stranger grow.

"I'm ... a friend," he said. He made a pause, and, though she could not see his features, she was suddenly sure that, under the hood, the expression on his face had saddened. "Things are not going to be easy, Hermione. Terrible things are about to happen." He made another tiny pause, but, before she could say anything, he added, in a strangely gloomy tone, "You don't know how much I wish things were different, but they aren't. You all will have to prepare yourselves for the worst." He sighed, and Hermione could swear that she was able to feel the immense sadness that filled him. The man seemed to look at his hand, still over her arm, and took it away before saying, with a stronger voice, "I must go, and you have to rest."

"NO!" she yelled, feeling her anxiousness increase again. "What do you mean, 'terrible things are going to happen?' You have to tell me —"

But she felt incredibly tired all of a sudden and stopped talking. She wanted to say more things; she had questions! She had, at least, to say thanks —

She stared at the man's face for a moment, using her last ounce of energy to keep her eyelids open. The man not only was wearing a hood, but it covered his entire face. How could he see anything? Or was it enchanted so it was see-through only from the inside?

She didn't know, but she had no more strength left to think. She just laid her head on the floor and closed her eyes, muttering a barely audible "Thank you" before passing out.

* * *

_Expect chapter 2 in 24 – 36 hours. Hope you liked it_


	2. Back to Grimmauld Place

_Here is, as promised, the second chapter. I'm glad of the good reception this story has had so far. Thank you._

_I forgot, in the introduction, to explain something about the POVs. I don't like to use many different POVs in HP fics, but in this story I use five different ones._

_As in TFLDotW, Hermione's the main one. Most of the story is told from her perspective. We'll have Ron's POV, too, and even Harry's. I can't speak about the other two._

* * *

**PART I**

**TALES OF NEW MYSTERIES**

_**Chapter 2**_

**Back to Grimmauld Place**

* * *

She opened her eyes slowly, feeling how the tiredness that had overcome her was now vanishing. For a few seconds she felt completely lost, not knowing what had happened. But just a moment later, the memories of what had occurred in her house flooded her, making her almost jump on the bed on which she had been lying.

"Hermione!" she heard someone yell, and, less than a second later, she found herself in Ron's arms, tightly pressed against his strong chest. "Hermione, Hermione! Oh, Merlin, Hermione! How are you? Are you in pain? Oh, Hermione!" Ron muttered quickly, kissing her repeatedly on the top of her head, his voice almost broken and filled with anguish and fear. She put her own arms around him and relished in the proximity of his familiar body and his sweet scent. Unshed tears started to fill her eyes.

"I'm fine. I'm fine," she muttered, stroking his back with the same pace he was stroking her hair.

"When we arrived home and I saw you on the floor and completely still, I thought — I thought that — that —" His voice faded and he pressed her even more tightly against him, as if he didn't want to let her go ever again. And that would be perfectly fine for her.

"The baby," she said suddenly, pulling apart from him and looking at his worry-filled eyes with increasing fear. "Is the baby all right?"

"He's perfectly fine," assured Ron. "The healers checked you and everything's okay. Don't worry, love."

"She," said Hermione without really thinking about it, feeling a relief like never before wash over her upon hearing that her daughter was _really_ going to be all right.

"What?" asked Ron, furrowing his brow. "What did you say?"

"She," repeated Hermione, looking into his eyes. "It's a girl, Ron."

"A — How do you know that?" Ron asked, putting his hands over her shoulders.

"He told me."

"Who?" asked Ron, his frown becoming more pronounced.

"The cloaked man that saved me."

"What cloaked man?" asked another voice.

Hermione looked towards her right, and, for the first time, realised she was in a bed in St Mungo, and that Ron and she were not alone. Harry was there, too, wearing the same concerned expression that covered Ron's face.

"Harry," she said, forcing a smile.

Harry smiled back, moved towards them, sat on the other side of the bed and grabbed her right hand. "How are you, Hermione? You don't imagine the fright you gave us."

"I thought I wouldn't see any of you again," she admitted, and felt new tears well up in her eyes.

"It's okay, love," she heard Ron say in a reassuring tone. "You're safe now. You're safe."

"What happened, Hermione?" asked Harry. "Who's that cloaked man you've mentioned?"

"I don't know," she said, shaking her head. "He was entirely covered by a cloak and a hood, so I didn't see his face. I only know that first he saved me, and then he healed me. I thought I was going to lose the baby, my abdomen hurt so much, and he healed me. He told me that you were on the way and that our daughter would be all right," she said, looking at Ron's face.

"That's why your wounds weren't as severe as they should be," commented Harry. "The healers told us you had only a few scratches and cuts on your back and legs, and given the state of the study, we found that a bit odd. One of them said that you seemed to have been partially healed. We thought that was ridiculous, but it turns out he was right, then."

"I was in a much worse state, believe me," she said, and let out a sob. "One of them kicked me in the stomach, Ron, se-several times," she confessed, and felt Ron's grip on her hand tighten.

"WHAT!" he almost yelled, his face contorted in fury. "Those fucking bastards!"

"They knew I was — _am_, pregnant. They wanted to kill us both, the baby and me. I've never been more scared in my life, Ron."

Ron pulled her against him once more, and caressed her hair soothingly while she sobbed against his chest, soaking his robes with her tears.

"Oh, God, Hermione!" Harry said, putting a hand over her right shoulder.

"And then he appeared, out of nowhere," she explained. "And he beat the three, in a second, before healing me."

"Three?" asked Harry. "There were four of them there."

"I blasted the one in the living room," she told them. "I ran up the stairs and threw a Blasting Curse at them. I wanted to kill them. I was ready to do anything necessary to protect our baby," she confessed, moving her head away a little and looking at Ron's face. He kissed her on the forehead.

"That's my girl," he said, and then moved his mouth downwards and gave her a kiss on the lips. She grabbed the sides of his face and pulled him against her, overwhelmed by the need to feel him. She knew that probably they were making Harry feel a bit uncomfortable, but, right now, she didn't care, and she knew that Harry would understand.

After a while, they both pulled apart, and Hermione leaned against the headboard, brushing her face to wipe away her tears.

"What happened, Hermione?" Harry asked, adopting automatically a more professional demeanour. "How did they break the wards?"

"I don't know," she answered and couldn't help a shudder. Ron took her left hand in his and gave her a comforting squeeze. "It was half past five, more or less. I had just arrived home and was putting my bag on the table when I heard the door open. At first, I thought it was Ron, but, when I turned round, I saw them. They were smirking at me, and one of them, who seemed to be their leader, threw a _Cruciatus_ Curse at me without any word or any kind of warning or threat. I hid behind the couch and then retaliated, but I knew they had the upper hand, as they had a clear numerical advantage, so I managed to run towards the stairs and went up to the second floor. As I told you before, I blasted one of them from the top of the staircase and then I hid in our bedroom."

"Did you try to Disapparate?" Ron asked, still holding her hand.

"Yes, but I couldn't. I suppose they put some anti-Apparition charm around the house before breaking into it."

"Yes," nodded Harry. "We couldn't Apparate into the house, either, and your wards should have allowed us to." Harry fell silent and looked down, his expression thoughtful. But a moment later, he looked at her again and asked her to continue.

"Once I found out I was unable to escape, I saw another two Death Eaters coming up, and I almost managed to hit them. Didn't do it, but threw them down the stairs. I was going to send you a Patronus, but then they blasted the floor from below and I fell into the study and lost my wand. They —" she made a pause and looked down, "they started to torture me, and kicked me. They were going to kill me when he appeared."

Ron clutched her hand more tightly with his left, and Hermione saw he was clenching his right fist so tightly she feared he was going to sink his nails into his own palm. She squeezed his hand, trying to convey the message that she was all right, but his expression only hardened.

"You don't know what I felt when we found you there. I wanted to kill them with my bare hands," confessed Ron, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth.

"We were so worried about you," continued Harry. "You seemed to be okay, but were unconscious and —" he stopped talking, looked at her and frowned. "Why? You told us that man had healed you. Why were you unconscious?"

"He told me I just needed to rest, and suddenly I felt very tired. I don't remember anything more."

"He put a Sleeping Charm on you?" asked Ron, frowning.

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know what he did. It didn't feel like magic, to tell you the truth. I mean, he didn't have a wand."

"What do you mean 'he didn't have a wand?'" asked Harry, surprised. "How did he beat those men, then?"

"With his hands," explained Hermione. "I don't know how; don't ask me. One of them hit him with a Stunning Spell and nothing happened. And then he just _moved_ so quickly and beat them all in a second." Ron and Harry exchanged a glance. "I know it's strange," she continued. "I had never heard of such magic. He didn't use a wand to heal me, either. He just put his hand over me and I suddenly felt much better. And then he told me you were on your way ..." She looked at Ron and then at Harry. "Why were you coming? Did you know something?"

"Ron's mum sent us a message," explained Harry. "She said that she walked into the house and saw that your hand was pointing at 'Mortal Peril.' We headed for your house with a team immediately."

"What time is it?" she asked, looking all around her for a clock.

"Half past six," answered Ron. "When the healer checked you and said you were all right, we didn't want to disturb you. He said that some rest would do you good."

"Those men are already imprisoned, Hermione," said Harry, looking at her apologetically. "We'll make sure they don't harm anyone else ever again."

Those words made Hermione remember something else.

"Before putting me to sleep, he told me something," she said. She made a pause and looked at Ron and Harry, who were watching her intensely. "He told me that terrible things are going to happen, and that we had to prepare ourselves for the worst."

"For the worst?" Harry asked. "But he didn't tell you what exactly is going to happen?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, but maybe it is related to the fact that those four men were working for someone."

"Working for someone?" repeated Ron, and exchanged a new glance with Harry. "Did they tell you that?" he asked, focusing his eyes back on her.

"I heard the one that seemed to be their leader tell them that the mission was the only thing that mattered."

"Mission," repeated Harry, concerned and furious. "So they're organised." He looked down, deep in thought, and then turned towards Ron. "There's no point in going back to the Ministry now. I'll be there at 8 o'clock and start working. Hermione, at some point, you'll have to give us a full account of what happened, sorry," he added apologetically, his expression softer.

"Don't be," she said, giving him a reassuring smile. "I know what I have to do."

"Let's forget this for now, shall we?" suggested Ron. "Mum, Ginny and the rest are out there waiting for you to wake up so they can fuss over you," he explained, and smiled a bit, though Hermione noticed the smile didn't fill his eyes completely. He was just trying to appear calm and unconcerned for her sake, and she loved him for it. "Dad has gone to fetch your parents and they should be about to arrive, if they're not here already."

Harry got to his feet, exited the room and a moment later was walking back in, followed by an anxious-looking Mrs Weasley, a worried Ginny, George, and Bill, the latter two wearing serious expressions on their faces.

"Hermione, dear!" exclaimed Mrs Weasley upon seeing her, and almost threw herself over her daughter-in-law when she enveloped her in a hug. "How are you? Are you all right?" she asked, checking her out. "Oh, I was so worried! When I saw your hand pointing at mortal peril, I thought I was going to pass out!"

"I'm fine, Molly," said Hermione, forcing herself to put a smile on her face. "It's all over. And thank you. Ron and Harry wouldn't have known that I was in danger if it wasn't for you."

"It's nothing, it's nothing," said Mrs Weasley dismissively. "I asked for a nice cup of tea for you; is that all right?" she added. "I think it'll do you a lot of good."

"Thanks, Molly," said Hermione appreciatively. "I really want one."

"What happened, Hermione?" asked Ginny.

A nurse entered the room in that precise moment with a steaming cup of tea for Hermione. She said, "Thank you," took a sip that did wonders to her and then started to explain. However, when she reached the part of the story in which the stranger appeared, Harry took over and told them that Ron, he and the rest of the team had arrived and stopped them, catching them by surprise. Upon hearing this, she and Ron exchanged a quick glance and then looked at Harry, trying to suppress their expressions of bewilderment. And for a moment, Hermione felt as if they had gone back seven years, to the time when the three of them had shared so many secrets during the war against Voldemort; she realised that their bond not only wasn't weaker, but it was even stronger, if that was possible.

"I thought there weren't any Death Eaters free," commented Bill, looking alternatively at Harry and Ron.

"There weren't," confirmed Harry, who looked worried and thoughtful. "Those who fled after the Battle of Hogwarts are in prison, just like the snatchers. We didn't know there were more of them."

"I don't know if they were Death Eaters under Voldemort's regime," interjected Hermione. "I called them that because it was the only name that suited them."

"They'll be interrogated tomorrow and then we'll know," said Harry.

At that moment, Mr Weasley entered the room, followed by the Grangers, who looked, the both of them, extremely pale.

Jean Granger embraced her daughter tightly, and her husband followed suit. After that, they started asking questions, but this time Ron told the story, so Hermione didn't have to repeat it.

"Do you have to spend the night in the hospital?" asked her father.

"No," answered Ron for her. "She is perfectly fine. She just needs to rest."

"And where are you going?" William asked.

"Home," replied Ron, not understanding the question at all. "Where else?"

"By what you said, your house is a wreck right now. Didn't you mention they almost blew up your bedroom?"

"Oh!" said Ron, scratching his head in thought. "Yeah, you're right."

"Besides, the wards have to be checked," added Harry. "It'd be better if you don't go there tonight."

"You can come to The Burrow," offered Mrs Weasley quickly.

"Or to our house," added Hermione's mother.

"Go to Grimmauld Place," interjected Harry, and everyone stared at him.

"Grimmauld Place?" repeated Hermione. She hadn't set foot there since the time the three of them had been on the run.

"I don't use it, but Kreacher loves it and you know I keep it clean and ready, just in case," explained Harry. "It's still under the _Fidelius_ Charm and protected by all those enchantments Dumbledore set up when it was the Order Headquarters. It's safe there."

Ron and Hermione looked at each other.

"What do you think?" he asked her.

"It's fine, I suppose. It will be only for one night, won't it?"

"Yes, we'll repair the house tomorrow and check the wards."

Harry nodded at them, and saying that he was going to get everything ready, left the room.

The Grangers and the Weasleys stayed for another half an hour. When they decided it was time to leave, since Hermione and the baby seemed to be completely fine, Mr Weasley took the Grangers back home and the rest of them left, so only Harry — who had already returned — and Ginny remained there with Ron and Hermione.

A few minutes later, a tall but thin healer with very black hair walked into the room. He looked at her with very penetrating light grey eyes, and Hermione had the sudden impression that he could examine her without a wand, just by looking at her.

"Mrs Granger," he said after a few seconds, "all tests show that you're all right, so you're free to leave whenever you want." He looked at Ron for a few moments before adding, "Just make sure she rests well tonight."

Ron nodded.

"Thanks for everything, Mr — eh ..."

"Adder, Aldus Adder," completed the healer with a little smile.

"Thank you, Healer Adder."

"Don't thank me, mistress," replied Adder, his voice stern, his eyes boring into hers. "Thank the person that healed you before you were brought here," he finished slowly, and then, with a nod, left the room.

Hermione turned her head to look at her friends and husband, and saw that Ginny was looking at them with an odd expression.

"Ginny?" she said. "What's the matter?"

Ron and Harry turned to look at Ginny, too.

"What did he mean, 'thank the person that healed you before you were brought here?' Who healed you?"

Ron, Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance. Ginny saw it and scowled at them.

"No, not again," she said, staring at Harry, and her scowl intensified. "We're no longer at Hogwarts. I don't want you three to start sharing secrets again. I'm your wife, Harry, not the sister of your best friend."

Sighing, Hermione told her everything about the cloaked man.

"But don't tell anyone, Ginny," Harry warned her once Hermione stopped talking. "We need to know who this man is."

Ginny didn't say anything, still shocked by what she had heard. She pulled a strand of hair off her face and looked at Hermione. "Well, it's obvious he's a friend, isn't it?" she commented. "He saved Hermione."

"But why didn't he tell her who he was?" replied Harry. "Why didn't he show his face?"

"Why didn't Snape reveal himself when he gave you the Sword of Gryffindor?" countered Ginny, folding her arms over her chest. "He had his reasons. But he saved Hermione, and that should be enough for us." She rounded on Hermione. "Didn't you find anything recognisable in him?"

"His voice sounded a bit familiar," responded Hermione, "But I couldn't place it."

"Well," said Harry, rubbing his eyes wearily, "it is obvious we aren't going to solve this mystery tonight. We'd better go home. Kreacher will have everything ready for you two." He got closer to Hermione and gave her a hug and a kiss on her forehead. "Sleep well, Hermione."

"Thanks for everything, Harry."

Harry raised a hand dismissively, and, after Ginny had hugged Hermione and Ron, they both left.

As Hermione hadn't been in the hospital for long, she hadn't had her robes changed, so she simply got out of the bed and Ron and she left the room hand in hand. They went down to the reception area, and once there, they both used one of the fireplaces to get to the kitchen of Number twelve, Grimmauld Place.

Once she stepped out, she was gladly surprised to find the fire lit and the kitchen warm and welcoming, which was a relief given that it was November. The table was set, and a pot was steaming on the stove. Hermione looked around, a bit unsure, and a shiver ran down her body. She put her arms around her as if she was cold and was trying to get warm.

"Hermione? Are you okay? Are you cold?" asked Ron, a bit concerned, while he rubbed her arms up and down with his big, warm hands, sending another shiver down her spine, though this time a pleasant one. "Do you want me to put a few Warming Charms here?"

"No," she said, shaking her head, and smiled at him. "It's just ... it feels strange, to be here, after so long."

"Yeah, it does," he nodded. "It'll be just for one night."

"I know."

Ron turned round to face the stove, and said, in a much lighter tone. "I'm famished. What do you think Kreacher is cooking for us?"

Hermione smiled warmly upon hearing him. It was obvious that he was still upset, perhaps even more upset than she. She was almost sure that he had found a way to blame himself for what had happened to her, but he was trying to act normally, to lighten the mood, and she loved him for it.

"I —" she started to say. She was going to say 'I don't care as long as it is edible' but Kreacher's voice interrupted her.

"Onion soup," he said, entering the kitchen. "Kreacher remembers it was a favourite of Master Weasley and Mistress Granger, and thought it would be nice."

Ron beamed at him. "More than nice, Kreacher, thanks," he said.

"And there is a delicious chocolate pudding for after," Kreacher added, walking to the pot and checking it, which caused a delicious smell to spread throughout the kitchen.

"Merlin bless you," Ron said, and then turned his head and looked at her with that grin on his face and that gleam in his eyes that made him look as if he hadn't grown up at all and were still that childish boy she had fallen in love with.

"I went up to check the fire in master and mistress' bedroom," the elf continued. "Everything is ready. You'll be staying in old Master Harry and Master Weasley's room. Is that all right?"

"More than all right. Thank you very much, Kreacher," said Hermione, and smiled at him. "But, please, stop calling us 'masters;' you know you don't have to do it."

"Kreacher knows very well. Mistress reminds him of it every time," Kreacher told her, "but, while Kreacher appreciates the laws Mistress has passed on house elves' wellbeing, Kreacher feels better if he treats his masters with the proper respect."

Hermione was going to argue, as she did every time she ran into Kreacher, but Ron put a hand on her left shoulder. "Drop it, Hermione. Today's not the day. Is the soup ready? It smells wonderful and I'm dying here."

"It is," Kreacher said, beaming at Ron's compliment. "Sit down and Kreacher will serve you."

"Thank you, Kreacher, but that's not —" Hermione started to say, but fell silent when Ron shook his head at her. Sighing, she sat down on one chair, and Ron did the same beside her.

The soup was delicious and pleasantly hot, and Hermione felt that it had a soothing effect on her. Neither she nor Ron talked a lot during dinner, but it was fine with her. She noticed, though, that Ron kept throwing glances at her every minute or so, and, although she acted as if she wasn't aware of it, Ron's concern made her feel much better. His love was the perfect antidote to the hate she had experienced during the attack.

After the onion soup, Kreacher offered them roast chicken, and then the chocolate pudding he had mentioned before. Hermione didn't felt very hungry, but Ron made her eat a good helping of everything. Once they had finished, Kreacher cleaned the table and the dishes magically, ignoring Hermione's pleas claiming that she or Ron would do it, and told them that if they didn't need anything more, he would go back to Master Harry and Mistress Ginny's.

Saying that everything was perfect, both Ron and Hermione thanked him and then left the kitchen and started climbing the stairs.

"I've gotta go to the bathroom," said Ron when they reached the first floor, taking her hand and squeezing it. "See you in a minute, okay?"

She nodded, and then, not knowing really why, turned round and headed for the drawing room slowly, observing all the little changes Harry had made to the house.

There was no longer anything dark in the building. All the rooms had been completely cleaned and were ready in case anyone needed them. Well, all of them except Sirius' and Regulus' rooms. Those had been left in their previous state, as a tribute to the Blacks that had given their lives trying to defeat Voldemort. That was part of the reason Harry kept the house in this state, always ready. He had said that the house had helped Voldemort's enemies on two occasions, when it had become the Order Headquarters and when the three of them had sought refuge after the Ministry downfall, and that was what it was always going to be: a safe place for the enemies of the Dark Arts.

Hermione opened the door and then leaned against the doorframe, watching the room in which they had slept that first night, after having to flee from the Burrow. She felt those old memories flood her, and as always, she became amazed thinking about it all. Now that she was twenty-six, whenever she saw a Hogwarts student, who looked so _young_, so unconcerned, she couldn't help but wonder how they had been able to do what they had done at that age.

She shivered all of a sudden, and, almost unconsciously, her hands covered her belly. She had thought, had _believed_, that they had left all that fear, all that pain and hate, and all those terrible things, behind them in the past; but it seemed they had been horribly wrong.

"What are you doing?"

Hermione let out a scream and gave an involuntary start, frightened by the unexpected question.

"Ron!" she scolded, turning round to look at him.

"Sorry, Hermione," he said apologetically. "I didn't mean to frighten you. What were you thinking about that had you so lost in thought?"

Hermione turned round again, facing away from him, before answering his question. "Do you remember our first night here, after escaping those Death Eaters in that café?"

"Of course I remember," Ron answered, moving until he was next to her. He put an arm around her shoulders, and then pulled her towards him, so she was leaning against him instead of against the doorframe.

"I was so scared," confessed Hermione. "Do you remember that I told you I was glad that your family was safe but that the whole event had made me remember my parents?"

"Yeah," said Ron.

"And you just took my hand in yours and squeezed it in the darkness," Hermione continued. "I couldn't see you, and I knew you couldn't see me, and yet I could feel you eyes on me, and I found myself smiling, feeling a lot better." She turned her head and looked up at him, intensely. Ron fixed his eyes on hers, and she noticed how he gulped due to the intensity of their locked gazes. Then she lifted her right hand, slowly, and caressed his face gently. "I loved you even more that day. I just wanted to shout it, and then ask you to sleep with me so I could lie in your arms the whole night, even if it was completely inappropriate."

Ron smiled at her and then turned his head a bit to put a kiss on her palm.

"I would have died of a heart attack if you had suggested that," he said with a slight grin.

Hermione didn't return the smile, but continued to stare into his blue eyes, feeling the events of the day wash over her, mixed with memories of fear and pain from the war.

"Take me to bed, Ron."

Ron hesitated for a moment, and then he took her in his arms. She put her own around his neck, and, without breaking their eye connection, he walked to the door of the room Kreacher had prepared for them. Hermione felt him reach out with his hand — being careful not to drop her — and turn the doorknob. Once inside, he closed the door again with his foot.

The room was pleasantly warm. Kreacher surely had put a Warming Charm on it. The king size bed was ready, too, and couldn't look more cosy and welcoming. All the portraits had been removed from the walls.

But Hermione barely noticed any of this. She had all her attention focused on Ron, and, before he could put her on the bed, she pulled his head against hers and kissed him full on the mouth, with all the passion she could muster.

She didn't know what had got into her. But the events of the day, the pain, the fear, and now the memories of the times of the war were making her feel very emotional. When she was lying in the study, with the Death Eaters surrounding her, she had almost convinced herself that she wouldn't see Ron again, and now that she had him with her, now that the two of them were alone, she could not suppress her urges and needs anymore.

At first, Ron simply stood there, too shocked to respond, but soon he was kissing her with equal passion and need. He pushed his warm tongue against her lips and she gladly took it inside, welcoming it with her own.

Ron started moving his hands up and down her back, and Hermione, to avoid falling onto the floor, manoeuvred so she could wrap her legs around his waist, while her hands caressed the back of his neck and his flaming hair.

After a few minutes of frenzied snogging, Hermione put her legs down and pushed Ron against the bed, without stopping the kiss. She was almost breathless, but she simply couldn't stop; she couldn't get enough of him, of his kisses, or of the little noises he was making.

When the need for air was almost unbearable, she parted from him, leaving both of them panting hard, and started kissing his neck, eliciting a new moan from him. Her right hand travelled from the back of his neck to his chest, and stroking its way downwards, she finally reached the growing bulge in his trousers, which she grabbed softly, in the way she knew drove Ron wild. Ron let out a gasp of surprise and pleasure, and Hermione smiled against his neck, without stopping covering it with kisses.

"Herm — Hermione ... Oh, Merlin!" he moaned when she, instead of stopping, started to caress his cock a bit more quickly, making him completely hard in seconds.

Feeling more and more needy and desperate, she pushed Ron backwards, making him fall on the bed, and, with a flick of her wand, had him completely naked in a second.

"Hermione!" Ron shouted, a bit shocked. But Hermione didn't bother to answer him. She just took off her robes as quick as she could, leaving herself in only her skirt and black cotton bra. She paused just a moment to contemplate the still astonished Ron, whose eyes darted immediately to her breasts, making her body tingle pleasurably, and then she let her eyes wander over his pale and freckled skin, his strong — but not too much — chest, his long legs and, finally, his erect cock. "Hermione," Ron said, in a low and hoarse voice, "What — oh, fuck!"

Instead of answering, or saying anything else, she had just bent over and taken his cock in her mouth. Feeling the incredible surge of power she always felt whenever she did this to him, she moved her hands over his thighs, stroking them. Ron spread his legs a bit more, giving her more space. She focused completely on his hard cock, sucking it forcefully, bobbing her head up and down with increasing speed. She could feel his moans and quick pants. She knew that he wanted — or needed — her to touch his balls, and that by not doing so she was torturing him. He was moving his hands all over the bed, whilst he opened and closed his fists uncontrollably, his entire body consumed by passion and pleasure.

Dominated by her own lust and need to feel, Hermione increased the speed at which she was bobbing up and down her head, and finally moved her right hand to cup his balls, making Ron hiss in pleasure. His pants quickened, and she felt his cock twitch in her mouth.

Hermione gave him a few more sucks and then released him. Staring into his bulging eyes, she wiggled out of her skirt and then crawled over him slowly, now clad only in her black cotton bra and knickers.

Ron blinked quickly a few times, still breathing hard, and stared at her, his eyes dark with lust. Without breaking eye contact, Hermione reached behind her and unclasped her bra, throwing it to the side. Ron's eyes focused immediately on her now bare breasts. She was well aware they weren't too big — in fact, she was sure they were smaller that the average — but Ron seemed to worship them, and the hungry look with which he always looked at them was a great turn on for her.

Hermione straddled his waist, but being careful not to touch him, knowing that this would excite him even more. She wanted him to lose all self-control, to be completely himself and give her everything he had and nothing less. She felt possessed by a maddening need, by the irrepressible necessity to feel and to have him — body, mind and soul; to be reminded of the reasons to keep going and fighting. Forever, if it was necessary.

So, dominated by these impulses and feelings, her eyes locked with his, both of them gazing at the other so intensely that they were even trying not to blink, she grabbed his right hand and, without hesitation, put it inside her knickers and against her cunt, making him feel how incredibly aroused and needy she was. Automatically, Ron pressed his hand against her, cupping her sex and making her gasp in pleasure. He opened his eyes wide and glanced downwards, as if he couldn't believe what she had done.

"Touch me, Ron," she said, her voice husky and demanding. "Please, touch me and make — make me come."

Those words seemed to cause something to click in Ron's mind, and he frowned slightly, the lust in his eyes being partially replaced by concern.

"Hermione ..." he started to say. "I think you're not all right. Maybe you — you should rest."

"NO!" Hermione shouted, startling him. To prove her point, she just pressed herself against his hand, letting out a moan, and then put her right one against his over her knickers to prevent him from taking it from the place it was.

"Hermione," Ron repeated, lifting his other hand to caress her face, "you — you endured a terrible experience today. The healers said you have to rest ..." he must have noticed the disappointment in her face, because he added quickly, "It is not that I don't want this — believe me, I reckon it's _evident_ I want it, but maybe we should just sleep."

Hermione pressed herself against him once more, and bent over so her face was above his, his lips inches away from hers, her hair cascading around both their faces. "I don't want to rest. _I don't need rest_. You are right," she said, and she realised, a bit alarmed, that she was almost sobbing, "I endured something terrible today. I thought I was going to die." She used her right hand to take his left one and press it against her bare belly. "I thought I was going to lose our child, Ron. And now we're here and I have all these memories ..." She shook her head. "What I need, Ron, is_ you_. I need you to make me feel alive; I need you to make me feel loved. I want to experience pleasure and love and life, Ron, with you. I want us three to be joined together in the most complete way possible." They both stared at each other for a few moments, gulping, their throats dry due to the intensity of the feelings they were experiencing.

"Make me feel alive, Ron. When I remember this day, I want to think of this night and not of what happened earlier. Please, save the memory of this day."

Ron stared at her for a moment, looking into her eyes as if he was trying to see her own soul, and then, suddenly, he put his left hand behind her head and brought her mouth to his, starting a passionate snog at the same time that his hand began to move inside her knickers. Almost instantly, a wave of pleasure coursed through her body. Their kiss grew in passion, while Ron's fingers started to move a bit more quickly, now focusing on her clit and eliciting muffled moans of pleasure from her.

Unable to resist the kissing and the touching, and needing to breathe, Hermione raised her torso a bit, and arched her back so Ron's hand was trapped between their bodies, increasing the friction. A moment later, she felt Ron's other hand on her breasts, stroking and kneading them, adding to the incredible sensations she was experiencing. Next, he slid his middle finger inside her, pressing his palms against her mound and clit, and she cried in pleasure. Her hips were now grinding out of control, her entire body on fire. She made an effort to open her eyes, and her gaze locked with his. Ron was staring at her with absolute adoration, and Hermione knew instantly that this was not enough, that this was not what she wanted; so, with all her willpower, she grabbed the hand moving under her knickers to still it, and then pulled it out. It was completely soaked in her juices, and the sight aroused her even more.

Without losing a second, she took off her knickers, almost falling on the bed in her hurry, and, once completely naked, she grabbed Ron's cock and stroked it a few times, making him gasp and moan and arch his back off the bed.

"Merlin, Ron, I want you — I need you," she confessed between ragged breaths.

"Oh, fuck, Hermione, I — I need you too," he responded. His hands went to her waist and, with a quick movement, lifted her body and positioned it above his cock. Wanting the same as he, she didn't lose a second and slid her cunt down his shaft, eliciting a moan of relief from both of them.

They stilled for a moment, relishing the feeling of being joined in the most intimate way possible, and then Ron thrust upwards, using his hands on her hips to move her in the opposite direction. Hermione arched her back and started to move up and down on his cock. She was on the brink of orgasm, completely consumed by lust and love and need. Ron's hands travelled to her arse, and she felt them caressing it roughly, helping her to press harder against him.

The tempo of their thrusts increased; each movement was quicker and more forceful than the previous one. Hermione put her hands on Ron's chest to have more leverage, and felt his hands move all over her body, as if two of them were not enough for him to touch her in all the places he wanted. Finally, he made her bend over so he could take her breasts in his mouth, sucking on them greedily, while one of his hands was on her arse, pressing her against him, as if he wanted their bodies to melt together.

"Hermione, I love — your — tits," Ron moaned between alternate sucks to her nipples, and the lust in his husky voice only got her closer to her impending orgasm.

"They're yours, Ron," she moaned, putting one of her hands behind his head to press him more forcefully against her chest. "I'm yours."

Suddenly, Ron slid his right hand between their sweaty bodies until he was touching her swollen clit with two fingers, causing an incredible friction every time she grinded against him. She felt like she was going into overdrive, and sat up straight on him again, her breathing quickening. Ron put his other hand on her breasts, and she felt herself near the edge.

Not with a little effort, she opened her eyes and looked down at him — at his sweaty hair, his flushed face and his naked chest. Ron, as if sensing that she was watching him, opened his eyes, too, and they locked gazes once more.

It was as if that second expanded to last minutes, or hours, and then he moved his fingers a bit quicker, and thrust upwards harder than before, and Hermione felt her entire body explode with absolute pleasure.

"OH, GOD, RON! RON!"

"Yes, love, cum, cum for me!"

Her hips started to move on their own accord, and, during a few blissful seconds, nothing existed in the world except love and pure physical pleasure.

Unable to hold herself, she fell over Ron, her body still trembling with aftershocks, and Ron put his hands on her arse and kept thrusting, prolonging her orgasm and making her feel dizzy and drugged.

Finally, he stopped moving, and they both lay there, she on him, both of them panting heavily. But Hermione knew he had not finished, and started to move despite that her body felt like jelly, thinking that surely he wanted to finish fucking her from behind.

But Ron had other ideas. Before she could do anything, he simply rolled them over, so that he was on top, and, fixing his eyes on hers, started to thrust like mad, putting one hand under her arse to press her against him, and the other under her neck as to embrace her.

"Oh, Ron!"

"Hermione, you are — so — beautiful, so delicious. Merlin, I want to do this forever!"

"Yes, Ron, don't stop. Don't ever stop!"

And Ron didn't. Hermione opened her eyes, despite the intensity of the sensations she was feeling due to how hard he was _fucking_ her and how sensitive she still was, and stared at him, marvelled at the sight of his closed eyes and slightly open mouth while he moved at top speed in and out of her. Ron opened his eyes in that moment, and she knew that he was close. Knowing him, she arched her back a bit, and, as expected, his eyes focused immediately on her breasts. Groaning huskily, he took one in her mouth, not gently, making her moan, and she felt him thrust even harder, until, just a second later, he arched his back, went as deep inside her as possible, threw his head upwards and screamed his release, his body convulsing in extreme pleasure above hers.

"OH, fuck, HERMIONE! Yes, yes, yes, aah!"

Ron fell on her, but making sure not to crush her, and she immediately embraced him, feeling their combined wetness and his cock slip slowly out of her. He covered her face with sweet kisses, grinning, an expression of utter bliss etched upon his face, and she smiled back at him.

"I love you, Ron."

"I love you, Hermione."

"Thank you," she said, cupping his face and giving him a slow and loving kiss.

Ron raised his head a bit and looked at her in confusion. "'Thank you'? I should be the one thanking you, believe me," he said, rolling off her. She felt a bit cold and empty all of a sudden, but, just a moment later, he put one arm under her and pulled her against him so their bodies were once more as close as possible.

"Thank you, for making me feel alive, and worthy, and loved."

Ron stared at her for a few seconds. Then, leaving her a bit taken aback, he moved them so he could pull off the blankets. He lay beside her once more and covered them. Hermione smiled and snuggled into him, silently thanking him.

Ron made her look at him and then put his right hand on her abdomen, above the place where their baby was growing.

"Hermione, you and the —" he stopped abruptly and smiled, "our daughter, are my life. I'd do anything for you. _Anything_. You know I've never loved a girl who wasn't you. And certainly, there's not a person in this world that is worth more than you."

Feeling even more in love with him, she pulled his mouth against hers, and they kissed and kissed until both of them fell asleep in the arms of the other.

* * *

_Next chapter will be posted on Friday. Until then, have a good week._


	3. Interrogation

_And here is chapter three. Enjoy it._**  
**

_Once more, many thanks to **Kathy** for her help.  
_

* * *

**PART I**

**TALES OF NEW MYSTERIES**

_**Chapter 3**_

**Interrogation**

* * *

"Hermione, are you completely sure you want to —?" Ron started to ask, for the third time, while they had breakfast in the kitchen of Number 12, Grimmauld Place, the next morning.

"Yes, Ron. Don't insist, please," she cut in, sounding a bit tired. "I feel perfectly well and there is a lot to do." She drank the rest of her juice and, with a flick of her wand, sent the dishes to the sink, where they started to wash themselves. Then she looked at him. "I am fine, seriously," she added, in a softer voice, "You don't have to worry."

He stood up and moved closer to her, putting one arm around her shoulders.

"I'm just saying that you can come later to give us your declaration."

"I want to be part of this, Ron. Those men attacked me. They tried to destroy our family, and not only that, but everything we fought for!"

Ron sighed. "I know, I know. That's what I'm saying, Hermione. _They attacked you!_ It's too soon. And the healer said you needed to rest," he added.

"Well, I rested more than enough. I slept wonderfully."

His serious expression dissolved into a smirk. "Yeah? And what caused that?"

She felt her cheeks flush slightly and slapped him on his right shoulder. "Idiot!"

He laughed and then gave her a kiss on her lips. "Let's go, then?" he asked, accepting that he wasn't going to convince her.

"Yes," she nodded.

They used the fireplace in the kitchen to travel to the Atrium that was still a bit quiet so early in the morning. As they headed for the lifts, Hermione felt herself getting a bit anxious. Despite her assurances to Ron, the prospect of seeing her attackers again, even if they were now locked up, didn't precisely thrill her, so she did what she usually did when she was a bit nervous, and looked at the golden statue in the middle of the Atrium. As always, she found herself smiling.

The statue had been one of the first changes after Kingsley had been named Minister. The horrible monument to wizard superiority built under the regime of Pius Thicknesse had been demolished, and, in its place, they had constructed a semi-sphere engraved with the faces and names of each elf, wizard, giant, goblin or centaur that had died fighting Voldemort.

And it had been all her idea. She had told Kingsley just a few days after the Battle of Hogwarts, in a meeting at The Burrow where he had informed them that the monument of 'Magic is Might' was going to be destroyed. It had been her first contribution to the new Ministry, even before her last year at Hogwarts, and she couldn't help but feel rather proud of it.

Ron grasped her hand, and she realised he had noticed her look at the monument. She didn't look at it usually, because she didn't want people — or herself — to think she was full of herself. She only looked at it when she was nervous or felt insecure about something, and Ron knew it.

"You don't have to come, you know," he told her once more and stopped walking. "You can go to your office and we can hear your declaration there."

"No, I'm fine," she assured. He stared at her disbelievingly, so she added, "Really."

Ron didn't say anything else. They got into a lift alone, and pushed the number two. The lift started moving upwards, until it arrived at level two, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

When the golden doors opened, Ron and Hermione headed straight away for the Auror Office, from where the loud sound of two people arguing could be heard.

"You've got to be kidding!" Hermione turned her head towards the other end of the room, where the door to the office of the Head of the Aurors was, and saw that Harry was the one who had yelled. He was arguing with Ferdinand Blevelty, his and Ron's boss.

Hermione looked at Ron and noticed that he was staring at Harry and Blevelty, too. Blevelty was saying something in that moment, in a more calm tone, and she couldn't understand what he was saying. Then, she remembered something and frowned.

"Wasn't Blevelty on leave because of that disease his daughter got?" she asked Ron while they resumed walking.

"I forgot to tell you," answered Ron. "He came back yesterday. Apparently, his daughter started recovering a few days ago and she's loads better now."

"Seriously?" Hermione asked, surprised. From what she had read, Blevelty's daughter had got _Schebert's _Magical Deficiency Syndrome, an illness for which there wasn't any cure. It was very rare, fortunately, because only one out of ten children that got it made a full recovery. The rest, even if they didn't die — which was the most frequent outcome of the disease, — got so magically weak that they were not able to resist the simple touch of a magical wand. "She's lucky. It is almost a miracle to recover from that illness."

"Yeah, he seemed pretty content about it," affirmed Ron.

"Content?" repeated Hermione disbelievingly, thinking about her own daughter. "He should be _ecstatic_!"

"You know he's very calm," said Ron, lowering his voice, because they were now close to the two arguing men.

"Harry, please, you have to see reason," Blevelty was saying patiently.

"Reason?" Harry repeated, red in the face. Hermione stared at him, wondering what would have got him so riled up. Then Harry noticed movement and turned his head to look at them. "Oh, here they come. Let's see what they think!"

"What's the matter?" Ron asked, frowning and forgetting his manners.

"Oh, Weasley, Granger," greeted Blevelty. He was in his mid-forties, and was almost as tall as Ron and pretty well-built, though, Hermione noticed, he was a lot thinner than before, surely because of the ordeal his family had went through. He had short dark hair sprinkled with white ones, and his eyes were a penetrating shade of grey. He had been a good friend of Kingsley in the Auror Office, and when the current Minister had had to flee during the last year of the war against Voldemort, Blevelty had been one of the few that had helped him in secret. When Kingsley became Minister, he appointed him as Head of the Auror Office and he was recognised as one of the best assets of the new Ministry.

"Good morning, Mr Blevelty," said Hermione politely. "Ron has just told me about your daughter — I'm very glad to hear she's getting better."

"Thank you, Mrs Granger," he said with a small smile. Harry frowned.

"Tell them what you've just told me," Harry demanded, clearly affronted.

"What's the matter, Harry?" Ron asked again, looking at his best friend and boss alternately. "We could hear you shouting from the entrance to the Department."

"What happened is that, apparently, we're off the case of the Death Eaters that attacked Hermione," explained Harry, glaring at Blevelty, who didn't seem fazed about it.

"WHAT!" exclaimed Ron, staring at Blevelty in disbelief. "You can't do that! It's my wife we're talking about! Those bastards broke into my house and almost killed my wife and — and — you can't take us off of the case!"

"Yes, I can, Weasley," Blevelty said, trying to maintain his composure. "And that's precisely the reason. You and Potter are too involved. It would be something personal and —"

"Of course it is personal!" said Ron hotly, his eyes flaming and his ears red. "Do I have to repeat that —?"

"No, you don't," Blevelty interrupted him. "We're here to bring justice, not revenge."

"What do you mean?" asked Harry. "Do you think we're going to enter there —" he pointed towards the door that led to the corridor where the custody cells were, "— and kill them?"

"Well, I wouldn't put it past Ronald right now," admitted Blevelty. "And I'm not surprised. In fact, it's perfectly normal and understandable. If it were my wife or my children, I'd do the same. And that's why, according to the rules, you can't be part of this case," he stated.

"That rule didn't matter to you 'til now!" yelled Harry.

"You'd never had to deal with a case like this one in the past," Blevelty replied, and, before either Harry or Ron could add anything, he turned towards Hermione. "Hermione, you know I'm right."

Hermione gulped, a bit taken aback. Ron and Harry were staring at her, waiting for her to say that what Blevelty was saying was nothing but a pile of rubbish and that there was no one better suited than them to handle the case.

"Mr Blevelty is right," she said with a sigh, and looked down to avoid the looks of disappointment she knew she was about to receive from them.

"WHAT?" bellowed Harry.

"What'd you say?" added Ron softly, a trace of incredulity in his voice.

She breathed in slowly and then looked at their shocked faces. "Look, Harry, Ron ... there is a reason why victims can't be judges or executioners. I think Mr Blevelty is right, and that it would be better if another Auror took care of this."

"I can't fucking believe you," said Ron, narrowing his eyes.

"_Ron_," she scolded him.

"That's rubbish, Hermione, and you know it!" argued Harry. "Then, when I faced Voldemort, should I have asked someone else to do it, because it was personal?"

"That was different," said Hermione.

"You don't know whether that's true or not!" replied Harry. "You don't know, Hermione, and neither do we, because we can't investigate it!"

"Shut up, all of you!" then shouted Blevelty, mustering all his authority. "I understand you're a bit nervous to give up control, but this is enough! I'll make a deal with you: I'll let you select the Aurors to lead the investigation, and you'll be the ones to take Hermione's declaration. Besides, you can watch the interrogation if you want. But that's all, and I demand from you two —" he pointed his index and middle fingers at Harry and Ron, "— to behave, or I'll force you to take the day off and send you home, do you understand?"

Harry and Ron nodded grudgingly, clearly very angry.

"All right then. Let me know when you have decided." He turned round and opened the door but, before walking into this office, he looked at Hermione once more. "I'm glad you're all right, Hermione. Very glad."

"Thanks, Mr Blevelty," Hermione said, and, with a nod, Blevelty entered his office and closed the door.

Immediately, Ron and Harry moved away from the door, walked along a corridor between the cubicles and entered Harry's. They didn't bother to tell Hermione anything, acting as though she wasn't there, so she just followed them, exhaling a sigh. How could they still be so childish sometimes? Okay, she understood that they were angry, but for heaven's sake, they were twenty-five years old!

"Terry Boot?" asked Harry, sitting in his chair when Hermione entered the cubicle. Ron was leaning against the desk with a thoughtful expression on his face. He nodded.

"It's okay with me," he said. "And put Julie to it, too. They are the ones in charge of the prisoners now, aren't they?"

"Yeah," said Harry with a nod. "Do you want to go there now?"

"As soon as possible," said Ron. "Then we will see what we can do."

"Wouldn't it be better if you took my declaration before?" Hermione asked, a bit tired of being ignored.

Ron glared at her. "I don't know," he spat. "Surely you'd prefer another person to do it?"

"Of course not!" she replied, offended. "Why would I want that?"

"Oh, I don't know," said Ron, feigning to think about it. "Let me guess: maybe because you think we're not capable of handling this case and that, instead of bringing them to justice, we'll hang them from a tree or something like that?"

"I've never said such a thing!" she responded heatedly.

"Well, you could have fooled us," retorted Ron.

Hermione breathed deeply and closed her eyes for a moment, trying to control her own anger. She sighed loudly and then opened her eyes again, focusing them on Ron. "Look, Ron. You know I have absolute faith in you — in both of you. But Blevelty is your boss, he gave you an order and he's right in a way. I don't believe that you are going to hang them, but you yourself said yesterday that you wanted to kill them even though we want them to go to prison."

Ron clenched his fists, furious, and then moved forward, advancing upon her slowly.

"You don't understand," hissed Ron. "Yes, I wanted to kill them. Of course I did! But I didn't do it, did I?" he added, and made a brief pause. "They attacked _you _," he stated, pressing his index finger to her chest. "You. Am I going to kill them? No. But you can be sure that I want to scare the living daylights out of them, so any other fucking Death Eater wannabe in this bloody country will know better than to mess with my family ever again!" he finished, raising the volume of his voice as he spoke.

Hermione stared at Ron in awe, feeling a lonely tear run down her cheek. She let out a sob before answering. "I don't understand?" she repeated, her eyesight blurring due to unshed tears. "Of course I understand, Ron! I was there! It was me who they wanted to kill, me and our baby! I wanted to kill them too! But that's not right and we know it," she added, lowering her voice. She wiped away her tears forcefully and sniffed loudly. "The rules say you shouldn't be part of the case, and you know it. We've worked hard to be here, and I don't want people, like Wilson, going all around and saying that you get to break the rules that everyone else must follow, that you're here just for being who you are." She made a pause, and added, more calmly. "I don't want to row, Ron. It's not what I want right now."

Ron looked at her, a bit puzzled, but now the anger inside him seemed to have vanished as well. He let out a sigh, too, and next moment she was between his arms and pressed against his chest in a tight embrace.

"I know, I know. Sorry, love," he said soothingly, kissing the top of her head. "It's just — I want to make sure those sick bastards can't get near us ever again."

"I know," she said in a whisper only he could hear, and she put her arms around his torso. Ron cupped her cheeks and made her look up at him. He brushed new tears with his thumbs and then bent down and kissed her softly on her lips. She responded at once, leaning into his mouth and making the kiss slightly more passionate.

"Ahem," coughed Harry, reminding them he was still there and that this was, in fact, his cubicle.

Ron and Hermione moved away from each other, both of them a bit flushed. Hermione looked at Harry and smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry, Harry," she said.

Harry waved one hand dismissively. "It doesn't matter, but we should get on with this. I want this interrogation done as soon as possible."

Ron closed and soundproofed the cubicle while Hermione sat down in another chair. Harry got official parchment and a quill and began to write as Hermione talked, repeating the story she had told them the evening before without interruption. But, when she was going to mention the cloaked stranger, Ron stopped her.

"Wait, do we want to get that written?" he asked Harry.

"I don't know," said Harry. "Good question."

"What?" asked Hermione, looking at them both alternately. "This is supposed to be my testimony! _My official testimony!_"

"Blevelty ordered us not to investigate the attack," said Ron. "But if they don't know anything about the cloaked man, we could investigate that on our own."

Harry thought about it for a moment, but then shook his head. "No, it wouldn't work," he said.

"Why not?"

"Because how are we going to explain what happened to the Death Eaters?" interjected Hermione, suddenly reaching the same conclusion Harry had. "I can't feign it was me who beat them, not when you, accompanied by more Aurors, found me unconscious. And besides," she added, "the Death Eaters will probably speak about him."

"Oh, yeah, you're right," nodded Ron dejectedly. "Continue, then."

So Hermione gave her final account of the story and, when she had finished, Harry made a magical copy, signed both of them, and gave it to Hermione to do the same.

"Shall we proceed with the interrogation now?" Ron asked.

"Yeah," nodded Harry, getting to his feet.

Hermione stood up as well.

"I'll go with you, and then I'm going to take the day off and head for Hogwarts."

Both men looked at her in surprise.

"Hogwarts? What for?" asked Ron.

"I want to know more about the cloaked man and how he did what he did. Wandless magic is perfectly possible, but, to the extent he used it? I've never heard of that. I doubt even Voldemort was able to do something alike, or move in that way, or resist a Stunning Spell without a Shield Charm," she explained quickly. "I'll ask Professor McGonagall if I can use the Hogwarts Library. It's the largest in the whole country. In fact, it's one of the largest in the entire world. Maybe I'll find something useful there."

"Didn't you say we were ordered not to investigate this case?" asked Harry with the slightest trace of a grin.

Hermione smiled back at them. "Well, as Ron said, he is not part of the attack, is he? I'm just investigating a rare form of magic, that's all."

Harry and Ron exchanged an amused glance, and then turned again to look at her.

"I love you, you know that?" said Ron.

- - - o - - -

Hermione sat on the chair beside Ron, facing the magic wall that would allow Ron, Harry and she to watch and listen to what happened in the interrogation room. Harry and Ron had appointed Terry Boot and Julie Simmells as the ones in charge of the case, and Blevelty had approved.

She knew Julie Simmells too well, and was not surprised at all that Ron had chosen her. She was two years younger than Ron, and had been in Ravenclaw at Hogwarts. During her last year of training, Ron had been appointed as her personal instructor. She was short, but rather pretty. She also was intelligent, very determined and fiery, and Ron had become very protective of her. Of course, she knew that his feelings towards her were those of a mentor and brother, but, for a long time, after having met her, she hadn't been able to avoid feeling the pangs of jealousy every time Ron mentioned her. She had made the mistake of getting angry at Ron about her once. Once her jealousy had been revealed, Ron had made the mistake of laughing about it. That had led to the worst row they had had since they had become a couple, and Hermione had felt very bad about it afterwards. After admitting to Ron what an idiot she had been, she had made the effort to get to know the girl, and had grown to care about her a lot, too. She was very intelligent and skilled, besides funny, and seemed to consider Hermione sort of a role model, something that she — secretly — enjoyed.

And, of course, she knew Terry Boot. Another Ravenclaw that had been part of Dumbledore's Army at Hogwarts, during the war, and that had fought valiantly under the Carrows regime at Hogwarts and in the final battle. He had been one of the members that had joined the Aurors, alongside Harry, Ron, Neville, and Justin Finch-Fletchley. Neville was no longer among them, because after they had captured all the escaped Death Eaters, he had taken a position at Hogwarts, as the apprentice of Professor Sprout. She was about to retire and Neville had confessed that being the Herbology professor had always been his true dream.

The sound of a door opening took Hermione out of her own thoughts. She looked towards her right, and saw Terry entering the room. He smiled at her.

"Hermione. I'm glad to see you're fully recovered."

"Good morning, Terry. Yes, I'm perfectly fine, thank you."

"Good," he said, and then added, looking at her and Ron, "I think Congratulations are in order."

"Thanks," said both of them at the same time. This was not the way Hermione had wanted to inform people that she was pregnant, but nothing could be done about it now.

Terry smiled at them before focusing his attention on Harry. "They're going to bring them in. We've read Hermione's declaration and have everything figured out."

"Perfect," said Harry approvingly. He sat down on the other side of Hermione, and Terry left the room.

"Do you — do you know their names?" Hermione asked him while they waited for the Death Eaters to be brought into the interrogation room.

"Yes," said Harry, taking a piece of parchment from the table behind them. "Adrian Pucey, twenty-seven. He —"

"Pucey?" repeated Hermione. "That was the one I blasted, I think."

"Yes, he was pretty injured," nodded Harry. "In fact, he hasn't recovered yet."

"His name sounds familiar."

"He was on the Slytherin Quidditch team," explained Ron.

"Oh, yes," said Hermione.

"Then there is James Mathery, thirty-five; Rudolf Scholdt, twenty-four, and Marvin Gealt, twenty-eight."

"Rudolf Scholdt? Is he German?" asked Hermione.

"Austrian," answered Harry.

"That's strange," commented Ron. "There weren't foreign Death Eaters, apart from Karkaroff."

"Well, we caught all of them, so maybe they've gone recruiting abroad," said Harry darkly.

The door on the other room opened, drawing their attention, and Terry Boot and Julie Simmells entered, taking two seats on the right side of the table placed in the centre of the room. A moment later, a man walked in, accompanied by another Auror whose name Hermione didn't know, and she tensed in her seat. This was the man that had kicked her in the stomach. He looked scary, but also, Hermione noticed, afraid.

The Auror forced him to sit in front of Terry and Julie using his wand. Hermione fidgeted in her seat, feeling anxious.

"Are you okay, Hermione?" Ron asked, grasping her left hand in his. He threw a death glare towards the man in the other room, who was now looking all around him. "You don't have to be here."

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she assured. "Just — just a little nervous. Don't worry."

"Good morning, Mr Gealt," started Terry, drawing the other man's attention. "As you know, you were captured yesterday in the house of Mr Ronald Weasley and Mrs Hermione Granger, and you're accused of the attack and murder attempt on the afore-mentioned Mrs Hermione Granger. Can —?"

"I was the one unconscious, wasn't I?" retorted Gealt, interrupting Terry.

"We have here —" Terry lifted the piece of parchment Hermione had signed before, "— a full testimony from Mrs Hermione Granger, who, in short, accuses you and your friends of breaking into her house, threatening to kill her, insulting her using words such as 'bitch' and 'Mudblood' — a word that, if you didn't know, is forbidden — and using the _Cruciatus_ curse and physical violence against her." Terry's eyes wandered over Gealt's body for a moment. "And, by her description, you were the one that kicked her in the stomach, knowing full well that she is pregnant."

Hermione almost could feel Ron's fury growing and radiating off him, and he tightened his grip on her hand. "It was _him_? This — this son of a bitch?"

Hermione nodded silently, and squeezed his hand in return to soothe him.

"The only thing I know is that I woke up here," replied Gealt defiantly.

Neither Julie nor Terry said anything for a while; they simply looked at him. Gealt started to fidget nervously in his seat. Finally, after almost two minutes of silence, Terry spoke.

"Are you sure that's what you want to say?"

"I'm pretty damn sure, yeah," Gealt answered.

Terry looked at him for another half a minute.

"You're claiming you're innocent, then?"

"I did nothing wrong, okay? So release me already, dammit!"

Another half-minute of silence.

"Sandal wood, nine and a half inches, unicorn hair. Is that a wand you recognise, Mr Gealt?"

"Yes, it's mine," said Gealt a bit grudgingly.

"And are you aware that, when we investigated it, we found that the last spells performed with it were Stunning Spells and ... the _Cruciatus_ curse?"

Gealt opened his mouth, not really knowing what to say.

"Are you aware that performing the _Cruciatus_ Curse means a life sentence in Azkaban?" added Julie.

Gealt grunted.

"Mr Gealt, you are in a very difficult situation," explained Terry in a very calm voice. "You have performed unforgivable curses, and have been accused of attacking Hermione Granger, a Ministry official. Are you aware that said Mrs Hermione Granger is a war hero? Right now, the entire population of Britain is reading the newspapers and asking for your head. She'll testify in front of the Wizengamot, and believe me, there is no chance you're going to escape this. I'd advise you to cooperate. Things will be easier. We have the authority to use Veritaserum on you, and we are seriously considering it."

Gealt looked at both his interrogators, first in fear, but then he frowned, and shouted, visibly angry, "Okay, yes! We broke into her house and I gave a good kicking to that Mudblood bitch! What's wrong with that?"

Hermione flinched at the hate and anger in Gealt's voice, and Ron put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him. It didn't soothe her, though, because she could feel the anger radiating off him.

Neither Terry nor Julie reacted to this outburst, though, knowing her, Hermione could see that Julie was boiling inside.

"Were you, Mr Gealt, a member of the army of Lord —" Terry hesitated for a moment, "V-Voldemort?"

Gealt flinched and recoiled in his seat, as if the name had been a curse.

"No, never."

"Who was in command during the attack last night?"

"I'm not telling you anything else."

"Veritaserum, Mr Gealt," Terry reminded him.

"Go fuck yourself."

"All right then," said Terry, unfazed. He looked at the other Auror. "Take this piece of scum back to his cell."

The other Auror made Gealt stand up, rather forcefully, and took him out of the room.

"Not very productive," commented Harry.

"I should be the one in there," said Ron darkly. "Then we would see if he would speak more or not."

"Are they going to use Veritaserum on him?" asked Hermione.

"Probably, after they check he hasn't done anything to prevent its effects," answered Harry.

Hermione watched Terry and Julie fill out some parchments. After one or two minutes, Terry touched a small semi-sphere that was placed on the table. It glowed, and he said into it, "Bring Mathery."

The semi-sphere was connected to the management office for the holding cells, situated in Level Nine, near the courtrooms. There was a special lift that only travelled between the cells and the interrogation area of the Auror Office. It was safer than having the arrested wizards and witches use the common lifts.

"Mathery is the oldest of them," commented Harry, looking at Hermione. "He is the one you think was the leader, isn't he?" he asked.

"Yes, he is," answered Hermione.

They fell silent again, because the door in the other room had opened once more, and this time, the tall man with the wealthy appearance was ushered in. He looked calmer and much more serene than Gealt. He took the seat and stared at Terry and Julie disdainfully.

"James Mathery," started Julie, "you are here for interrogation due to the attack and attempted murder of Mrs Hermione Granger that took place yesterday evening, at the victim's house. Do you deny this accusation?"

"I don't," said Mathery, rather defiantly.

Hermione looked at Mathery, dumbfounded. In the interrogation room, Terry and Julie seemed a bit shocked as well.

"You don't?" asked Terry. "Do you admit to having broken into her house, using the Cruciatus curse against her, and attempting to kill her?"

"Well, as surely you know, we didn't get close to the 'killing her' part, but yes, that was our intention."

"Mrs Hermione Granger declared that you acted as the leader of the group. Is that true?"

"Yes, I was the one in command."

"What's he doing?" said Harry, completely shocked.

"Were you, ever, under the orders of the wizard known as Lord V-Voldemort?" continued Terry.

"I wasn't living in the country at that time. I came back four years ago."

"What was the reason behind last night's attack, Mr Mathery?"

Mathery chuckled. "Reason? She is a Mud—"

"Don't use that word here!" warned Julie, scowling at him, and Hermione noticed that, despite how small she was, she looked rather intimidating.

Mathery looked at her contemptuously, and said, sneering, "She is a _Mudblood_ who helped bring down the best wizard this country had seen in centuries. Is that reason enough?"

"So, it was just an act of revenge on behalf of a wizard you never knew and for whom you didn't care to come back while he was in power?" said Terry, his tone clearly stating that he found the story rather unlikely. "Was just a way of teaching her — all of us who fought in the war — a lesson?"

"I didn't come because — well, I couldn't. But I wanted to, so yes, that is what we wanted to do."

"So, when you broke into the Weasley-Granger residence last evening, it wasn't part of some sort of mission?" asked Terry, and Hermione saw how Mathery's face paled instantly.

"What? A mission? No! Where did you get that idea from?"

"Interesting," said Ron, putting his elbows on his knees and leaning forward.

"So this is why he was telling everything," commented Harry. "He was trying to protect the person behind the attack."

Terry couldn't help a smirk while he looked down at Hermione's declaration. "Hermione Granger heard you tell your men that the mission was the only thing that mattered."

Mathery tried to hide his astonishment, but unsuccessfully. It was clear that he hadn't expected Hermione to hear that, or that she would survive to tell. "Well, yes, it was the mission I had prepared."

"Are you sure, Mr Mathery?" interjected Julie. "Because you see, Hermione Granger states that your exact words were 'our mission.' And that sounds, if you ask me, as if someone else had ordered you to do what you were doing."

Mathery put his hands under the table, so neither Terry nor Julie could see them, but Harry, Ron and Hermione could, and they — Mathery's hands — were trembling.

"That's not true."

Julie smirked. "Do you want to know what I think, Mr Mathery?" she said. "I think that you were telling us what we wanted to hear because you didn't want us to use Veritaserum on you or your henchmen. And you didn't expect Hermione Granger to have heard about that mission or to remember it. Who is behind all this? How did you break the protective enchantments around the house? Who told you that Hermione Granger was pregnant?"

Mathery stared at her, defiantly ... and afraid. "I won't tell you anything. Chuck me in Azkaban if you want!"

Julie insisted, "How did you break the enchantments?" while Terry got up and left the room.

"With a wand," answered Mathery with a sneer.

"This is not a game!" Julie yelled, at the same time the door to the room Harry, Ron and Hermione opened and Terry walked in.

"No, it is not," Mathery said. "You don't have the slightest idea."

Julie didn't answer, and instead started to write something on a parchment. Harry, Ron and Hermione turned their heads towards Terry.

"I want to use Veritaserum on him," stated Terry. "I can tell this bloke is terrified. He wanted to take all the blame."

"We saw it," said Harry. "And I agree. They are all locked together, aren't they?"

"Yeah," confirmed Terry.

"Gealt must have told him you threatened to use Veritaserum," Harry guessed, staring at Mathery. "That's why he's confessing."

"But, what — or whom — is he so scared of?" asked Hermione. "Even some of Voldemort's followers betrayed him!"

"Well, most of them believed he was finished," said Harry.

"Have they been checked for antidotes against Veritaserum?" asked Ron.

"Yes. All tests are negative."

"Do it, then," said Harry. "You don't have to ask us, you know; it's your case."

"I know; I just wanted your opinion. We'll proceed, then. I'll arrange everything."

Terry left, and ten minutes later, walked into the interrogation room once more. He muttered something into Julie's ear and sat down. Then he fixed his eyes on Mathery, rummaged into one of his pockets, extracted a tiny bottle full of a transparent liquid and put in on the table. Mathery looked at it and his eyes opened wide in fear.

"I told you everything!" he bellowed. "You can't do this!"

"You're hiding information," replied Terry, and then showed him an official parchment. "This authorises us to use Veritaserum on you."

Mathery tried to fight, but it was useless. The other Auror pointed at him with his wand and he became completely still. Then, Terry stood up, used his own wand to open his mouth and let three drops fall into it. He released him and sat back on his chair. Mathery tried to cough, but, almost instantly, his expression became vacant, as if he were in a trance.

"Who ordered you to attack Hermione Granger?" asked Julie immediately.

"My master," he said.

"Who is he?" asked Terry. "An old Death Eater?"

"I don't know his name."

"Tell us everything you know about him."

Mathery looked as though he wanted to resist, but a second later he was talking again. "He came to see me a year ago. He took me to a cave. He told us that it was time for the Wizarding world to be purged, for the filth to be disposed, and then ..."

"Then what?" pressed Julie.

"I don't remember."

"You don't remember? What do you mean?"

"We started following his orders. Suddenly, everything was clear, everything was obvious. But I don't remember what he told us. There is a ... gap there."

Terry and Julie exchanged glances, and Harry, Ron and Hermione did the same.

"Where did he come from?" asked Julie. "Describe him!"

"I don't know. He has a neutral accent. He is young, probably in his thirties; thin, but strong, tall. And powerful. He's so — he's so powerful ..."

"Hair? Eyes? Tell us."

"I've n-n-never seen his face."

"What?" Julie exclaimed. "You're following someone's orders and you don't even know who he is?"

"That didn't seem important. He knew things. He is right about what he says."

"Has he ordered you to do anything else before yesterday? Any more attacks?" asked Terry.

"No. He just called us yesterday and told us what we had to do."

"The enchantments," continued Terry. "How did you break them?"

"He told us how," confessed Mathery. "He told us everything: about the house, about the Mudblood, about her child."

"How did he know those things?"

"I don't know. He knows everything. He always knows," Mathery added, clearly afraid. "He'll know I talked. He'll know."

"Does he have more followers?" asked Julie.

"Yes, but I don't know t-them." Mathery looked now on the verge of tears. He was terribly afraid, that was evident, but Hermione couldn't find it in her to pity him. The way he had looked at her, with his hate-filled eyes, was burned in her mind. "He'll know," Mathery continued, now almost sobbing. "He'll know."

"He can't get to you while you're here, or in Azkaban," stated Terry.

Mathery looked at him with his fearful eyes. "You blood traitor idiot! You don't understand ANYTHING! Nothing will stop him! NOTHING!"

"If he's so powerful, why did he send you to perform that attack, then?"

"We don't question his orders!"

"The cloaked man that stopped you last evening," continued Terry, relentless. "Do you know anything about him?"

"No. He was covered from head to toe. I had never seen him."

"Where is your master?" demanded Julie. "Tell us."

Mathery was now sweating and completely pale. Hermione could tell that he was trying to resist with all his might.

"N-No. I — I won't t-tell!"

"Where — is — your — master!" insisted Julie, her eyes blazing with fury.

"We — w-we r-r-reunite in — in a hidden cave, in the Choire Mhoire cliffs, in Scotland," said Mathery finally. He was shaking as if he had been drenched in frozen water, and his eyes, unnaturally open, were bloodshot and full of fear.

"You're finished!" he yelled suddenly. "This is only the beginning! He knows everything! This time, no hero will save you! NO ONE! YOU'RE ALL DOOMED!" he finished with a terrible scream, and then dropped onto the table, unconscious.

* * *

_An intense ending, I think._

_Next chapter, On Sunday night (here in Spain). Have a good weekend.  
_


	4. Hogwarts

_Some of you have asked me about Hermione being called 'Mrs Granger'. Well, I have to say that the 'Granger' is absolutely intentional._

_As you know, I'm Spanish, and in Spain no one adopts another surname after marrying. In my opinion, nobody should. I know that it is still very common in several countries, but, as Hermione is portrayed in the books as not only a strong female character, but also as a feminist, I decided she would keep the Granger surname. Besides, she's proud of her Muggle origins. The 'Granger' name would mean, for her, a way of saying, 'I'm proud of my Muggle origins.'_

_Someone told me that, if she kept her maiden name, she should be called 'Ms Granger' instead of 'Mrs Granger'. I'm not sure of this. I've seen people address JK as 'Mrs Rowling', not 'Mrs Murray' or 'Ms Rowling'. If someone knows more about this, I'd be grateful for the information._

_**Edit: **After a talk with Romina, she made me see that some women could get offended by this note. If someone got offended, sorry, it was not my intention. I'm not saying that strong females don't change their surnames. I'm saying that Hermione wouldn't. Ginny is strong, too, and she's Ginny Potter here. It has nothing to do with being ashamed of the Weasley name. Simply I see Hermione keeping her name, just like Ron keeps his.  
_

* * *

**PART I**

**TALES OF NEW MYSTERIES**

_**Chapter 4**_

**Hogwarts**

* * *

"I don't like this," said Ron, standing up and getting near the wall that allowed them to see what happened in the interrogation room.

"Me neither," said Harry, an expression of utter worry etched upon his face. "I've never seen someone so scared. Not even Bellatrix Lestrange when she thought we had been inside her vault."

Hermione felt a shiver run down her body at the memory, and wrapped her arms around herself.

Inside the interrogation room, the eldest Auror was taking Mathery back to his cell. Julie and Terry got their papers and left the room, joining Harry, Ron and Hermione a moment later. When Julie saw Hermione, she smiled sympathetically at her and gave her a tight hug.

"I'm so glad you're all right, Hermione," she said, pulling apart. "We were very worried when we arrived at your house. When we saw what had happened ..." She looked at Ron. "I thought he was going to have a seizure or something like that."

"I'm fine," Hermione said, smiling fondly at her.

"Sorry for not visiting you. I had to be here."

"Don't worry. You were needed here. Anyway, they released me very quickly. As I said, I'm perfectly fine."

"Good," she said, and then seemed to relax. She turned her head towards Ron and smirked at him. "What would Ronnie do without you?" she teased.

"Shut up," he scolded, glaring at her. "I've told you over and over not to call me _that_," he added ruffling her hair playfully. But almost immediately, he adopted a more serious demeanour and asked, "What do you plan to do now?"

"We are going to make a team and go there," declared Julie decidedly. "I didn't like what that monster told us, and I think it'll be better if we end it before it can really start."

"Do you think that Blevelty will let us go?" Ron asked Harry. "I think that the more, the better."

"I don't think so," said Harry. "But we'll try." He looked at her. "Hermione?"

"I'm going to go to my office to tell them I'm off for the day, and I'll send Professor McGonagall a message. I'll see you before going there, okay?"

Harry and Ron nodded, and after saying goodbye to Julie and Terry, Hermione left the room, her head whirling with all the things she had heard. Seriously, could someone be more powerful and scary than Lord Voldemort? It was difficult to imagine. Yet, it was the only thing that would explain the fear Mathery had felt, especially when he had seemed so cold and in control the day before.

Realising she had reached her section in the Wizengamot Administration Services, she tried to stop thinking about it and concentrate on what she needed to do. She walked past her door to the end of the corridor, where the office of her boss was.

She knocked on the door, and when a woman's voice answered, "Come in," she opened it and walked in.

"Good morning, Mrs Addler," she greeted.

Mrs Addler, a rather tall and severe-looking woman in her late forties, looked up from a piece of parchment and stared at her in surprise.

"Hermione! What are you doing here?" she asked, standing up. "You should be at home! How are you? When I heard what had happened, I was so worried! I could barely believe it, such an awful act in these peaceful times!"

"I'm fine, I'm fine, thanks," she answered with a slight smile. "I came to watch the interrogation, you see. And now I wanted to tell you that I am, in fact, taking the day off —"

"Of course!" Mrs Addler bellowed. "You didn't have to even ask!"

"— if that's not inconve— thank you," she finished.

"Are you sure you are all right? Do you need more days? You can take a week off."

"No, no!" yelled Hermione, scandalised at the idea, but smiling inwardly. Despite her looks, Mrs Addler had a very big heart. "I'm all right. I just need today."

"Rest, Hermione," Mrs Addler said. "You experienced a really traumatic event. How did the interrogation go?"

"Rather well," Hermione answered. "Aurors Boot and Simmells are preparing their report right now."

"Good, good," nodded Mrs Addler, sitting down again on her chair. She gave Hermione a tiny smile. "You can go now. And rest!"

"I will. Thank you," said Hermione once more, and left the office, closing the door behind her.

She went to the mail delivery room, and sent an express owl to Professor McGonagall, informing her of her visit, and then walked back to the Auror Office, which was now bursting with activity. Ignoring the stares and whispers that seemed to follow her, she headed for Ron's cubicle and found him looking at some papers.

"I've talked to Mrs Addler, so I'm off to Hogwarts," she said upon entering.

Ron looked up at her, concerned. "Do you want me to accompany you?"

"Ron, I'll Disapparate in the Atrium and Apparate at the gates. I can manage to do that."

"I know; it's just ..."

"I'll be okay. I can defend myself — at least, most of the time."

Ron stared at her, and then nodded.

"Okay," he accepted. "Terry and Julie are talking to Blevelty to organise a team of Aurors."

"Are you going to go?" asked Hermione, feeling a bit nervous at the idea. She had grown accustomed to it (though she never felt completely calm whenever he or Harry went on a mission) but after what had happened, and sincet it had been a while since the last time they participated in a dangerous operation, it was even more difficult for her.

"I don't think so," answered Ron, who seemed upset about it. "And I think we should. If that 'master' is as dangerous as that son of a bitch —"

"_Ron!_"

"— thinks he is," Ron continued, ignoring the scolding, "more people should go."

"I'd be lying if I said I want any of you to go," admitted Hermione.

Ron looked up at her, and then got up and embraced her. "Hey ... you didn't support Blevelty's decision because you were scared for us, did you?"

"No," she answered. "But after what we've heard ... I am scared, Ron. I can't forget what the cloaked man told me, and how scared Mathery was."

"It's our job, love," said Ron softly. "We brought Lord Voldemort down. And we're much better prepared now. I mean, surely this bloke hasn't made Horcruxes, has he? He is not immortal."

"I suppose," said Hermione reluctantly. "And what are you going to do if you aren't allowed to go?"

"Then we'll head for our house, repair it and check and strengthen the wards."

"I like that plan much more," she admitted. "I missed our bed last night."

Ron tilted his head slightly to the left and smirked at her suggestively. "You did? I was under the impression you enjoyed the night."

Hermione didn't smile. "I did," she said seriously, staring into Ron's blue eyes. "I needed that, Ron. I needed you. But it wasn't our bed, our room. That house is full of so many bittersweet moments that I don't know what to feel there."

Ron's smile vanished after hearing Hermione's serious tone. He pulled her against his chest and rested his chin on the top on her head.

"Everything's gonna be okay," he whispered into her mane of wild hair. "We'll be home, and safe, tonight."

"No, everything's not going to be all right," she said, putting her arms around his neck and pressing herself tightly against him. "I have this strange sense of foreboding, as if I were going to lose you."

"You aren't going to lose me," Ron affirmed, and then kissed the top of her head.

"I know this is stupid, that we faced worst things than yesterday's attack, but — I don't know, I have this feeling, as if something is horribly wrong." She looked up at him. "Don't you feel it?"

Ron didn't answer immediately.

"Yeah," he admitted, rather reluctantly. "I feel as though there is something there and I can see it, but not grasp it. I don't know how to explain it. Something is wrong; you're right about that. Though neither of us was ever good at Divination. Maybe you could ask Trelawney, since you're heading off to Hogwarts?" he suggested with a grin.

Hermione was grateful for his attempt to lighten the mood with a joke. It was something he was rather good at, but it didn't work this time.

"I'm serious, Ron. Maybe I'm just being irrational, or too emotional. Maybe it is the pregnancy, I don't know. But — but —" she leaned into his chest again, frustrated due to not being able to find the right words.

"I know. I was serious too. Something is wrong, yes, but we'll put it right, okay? It's what we do, Hermione. We grew up doing that, didn't we?" he said, cupping her face with his hands and making her look up at him.

"Yes, it's what we do."

"Then we'll do it once more. And tonight, I'll run a bath for you, and you'll relax in it with a good book, exactly the way you like."

This time, Hermione did smile at him. "You can be so sweet at times," she told him. "You should let other people see this side of you."

Ron put a face of horror. "No way!" he said. "I'd deny it even in front of the entire Wizengamot."

"I'm part of the Wizengamot."

"Just one vote," Ron said. "Free of all charges."

Hermione laughed, and then told him, "I like the idea of the bath. But I won't need a book."

Ron stared at her disbelievingly, his eyebrows raised. "You _love_ reading a book while having a hot bath."

"I love a bath with you much more," she replied, and he grinned, his eyes darkening with unmistakable lust.

"You shouldn't say things like that while we're at work," he warned her, looking at her as if she was his favourite kind of pudding —, which, in a way, she was.

"I have the day off, so technically I'm not at work."

"I'm a _terrible_ influence on you," he said, before leaning down and kissing her passionately. She responded with equal fervour.

"For heaven's sake!" bellowed Harry, making them jump apart. "_Snogging again? _Can't you wait until you're home? We come here to _work_, you know."

"Can't I kiss my wife whenever I want?" replied Ron, a bit red in the face. Harry, who was in the entrance of the cubicle, stared at him.

"Kiss?" he repeated. "If I had come a minute later, I'm sure I would have found you sha—"

"_Harry Potter!_" interrupted Hermione, outraged. Seriously, did he really believe what he was implying? She would never ever do anything like that in an Auror cubicle. And not just because it was highly unprofessional and inappropriate, but also because they had no doors!

Harry shut his eyes tight, as if trying to banish a particular disgusting mental image, and threw his hands into the air.

"Forget it," he said, and looked at Ron. "I came to tell you that we won't be part of the team that will go searching for that cave, and instead we could go to your house, but I'll just wait in my cubicle until you — until you're done. See you later, Hermione," he added, and then left without waiting for an answer.

"I'll give him a piece of my mind later," declared Hermione, turning to look at Ron. "But now we should be going. I'll be having lunch at Hogwarts, so I suppose I'll see you at home in the evening."

He nodded and gave her a quick kiss. "Yes, I reckon Harry and I will be there the entire day. Say hi to Hagrid and Neville and — well, to all of them."

Hermione nodded and both exited the cubicle.

"Goodbye, Ron," she said to him, before they parted ways: Ron going down the corridor, towards Harry's cubicle; and Hermione in the opposite direction, towards the lifts.

Though a lot of things had changed after Lord Voldemort's downfall, in 1998, the reinforced security at the Ministry had not been one of them. In fact, security had been strengthened. For starters, Apparition into or out of the Ministry was impossible, except in the Auror Office that could only be used by Aurors, and in one place in the Atrium. Besides, only Ministry employees were able to travel by Floo into the building, and the normal visitor entrances were enchanted so concealment and control magic — like the _Imperius _Curse or Polyjuice potion — couldn't be used. Hermione smiled, thinking that that had been all Ron's idea. He had told Kingsley all about the Thief's Downfall at Gringotts, and had suggested something like that should be used, so it became impossible to have officials at the Ministry under the _Imperius _Curse. Then there was, of course, the added security at level nine, where the cells, the entrance to the courtrooms and the Department of Mysteries were located.

Once in the Atrium, she headed for the Apparition point and Disapparated, materialising just in front of Hogwarts' wrought-iron gates.

It was drizzling there, and Hermione shivered, slapping herself mentally for not having brought a cloak. It was November and this was Scotland. So she took out her wand and conjured a cloak from home. She noticed it was a bit dusty, and applied a Cleaning Charm to it before putting it on.

She opened the gates and stepped onto the Hogwarts grounds, something she hadn't done in almost two years. While she walked along the muddy path that led to the school, Hermione raised her eyes, contemplating the castle where she had grown up, changed so much, and had found her best friend and the love of her life. It was impossible for her to come here and not feel a bit nostalgic.

She looked at Hagrid's hut when she walked by it, but it was empty. Surely Hagrid was in class, and Fang had passed away three years ago. She really wanted to see Hagrid — it had been almost months since the last time — but she would have to wait until lunchtime.

She continued walking towards the front doors. She was forty yards away from the castle when she saw a familiar figure leaving the greenhouses and heading for the doors.

"Neville!"

Neville Longbottom stopped dead in his tracks and turned towards her. His face showed some confusion at first, and then he beamed at her.

"Hermione!" he exclaimed, staring at her in surprise. "What are you doing here?" he said, running at her and enveloping her in a hug. "How are you?" he asked, breaking apart from her and looking at her. "I heard about the attack this morning, but you were already out of the hospital."

"Oh, I didn't even sleep there," Hermione answered with a smile. "I'm fine, you see."

"What happened?" asked Neville, while he ushered her into the deserted Entrance Hall, where they were protected from the rain. Once they were inside, Hermione told him the story, including the part about the cloaked man that had saved her.

"And you don't know who he was?" Neville asked, his brow furrowed. "Or what those terrible things that are about to happen are?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, I don't know. And that's why I am here. I have the day off and I was hoping I could do some research in the library. I have to ask Professor McGonagall, though. She'll have received my owl, so I suppose she's waiting for me."

Neville's serious expression turned into a knowing grin. "The same old Hermione," he commented. "I'll accompany you to her office, then."

"Thanks, Neville."

"Are Harry and Ron leading the investigation?" he asked as they climbed the marble staircase.

"No," said Hermione. "Blevelty thinks they're too linked to the case. Terry Boot and Julie Simmells are in charge."

Neville nodded in understanding.

"But enough talk about me," said Hermione, wanting to change the subject. "How've you been? We haven't met in a while. Ron told me to say 'hi' to you."

"I've been good," said Neville, grinning. "I like this. Even after seven years away, coming back here is a bit like coming home," he said dreamily, looking all around him, at the staircases, the painting-covered walls, the four hourglasses that reflected the house points and the high ceiling.

"Yes, you're right," nodded Hermione, doing the same thing and looking around, "it always feels a bit like home." She focused her attention back on Neville. "And what about your job?"

"Oh, I love it!" exclaimed Neville, beaming. "I'm in charge of the greenhouses, and I've already conducted some classes. Professor Sprout thinks I'll be ready by the end of the year. If I am, she will retire and I'll be the only professor next year."

"That's wonderful, Neville," said Hermione, and couldn't help feeling proud of him. Sometimes it was difficult to believe that that boy who didn't stop losing his toad and was almost always wailing had become this man beside her.

"Yeah, I think so," he commented proudly. "Me, a professor. Who would have thought it, eh?" he added with a grin.

They talked a bit more about how their lives were going until they reached the gargoyle that hid the entrance to the Headmistress' office.

"Well, I have to leave, you know," said Neville. "I have things to do. Will you stay for lunch?"

"I think so," said Hermione.

"Then I'll see you then. And I'm sure Hagrid will be happy, too." He stared at the gargoyle. "_Conjurus Spell_."

Hermione couldn't help but smile upon hearing the password. Professor McGonagall would always be a Transfiguration teacher in her heart, even if she didn't teach anymore.

When the gargoyle stepped aside, revealing the staircase, Hermione nodded at Neville and started climbing up. She knocked at the door, and when she was invited to enter, she did.

"Mrs Granger!" exclaimed Professor McGonagall in surprise. She was sitting beside the desk that had been once Dumbledore's and then Snape's, reading some papers, and she stood up at once upon seeing her. "I was so surprised when I received your owl. How are you? I heard you had suffered an attack yesterday!"

Hermione smiled at her, taking in her aspect. McGonagall was already old when she, Harry and Ron had started Hogwarts, fourteen years ago, but now she was definitely getting on in years. She looked a bit thinner, and her face showed many more wrinkles. Besides, she didn't move with the same agility as before. Hermione wondered for how long she would remain as Headmistress, but she didn't believe it would be much longer.

"I'm fine, Professor," she said, and sighed, preparing herself to tell the story of the attack once more.

"Mrs — Hermione, please, sit down," McGonagall offered, pointing to the chair in front of the desk. "I have to admit I'm very surprised to see you here, but, at the same, time, very pleased. I was very worried when I heard of the attack." She shook her head sadly. "After all these years, it happens again," she lamented, and sighed.

"I know," said Hermione, and then looked into the old woman's eyes. "Professor, I should be dead," she stated bluntly, and McGonagall opened her eyes in shock. "They were four — well, three, after I knocked out one of them. But someone saved me. That someone appeared in my house without making a sound, beat those Dark wizards without a wand and healed me with his bare hands."

"Who was he?" asked McGonagall, intrigued.

"I don't know," answered Hermione. "He was disguised. I know he was a man, but apart from that, I know nothing." She made a pause and stared for a moment at a thoughtful Professor McGonagall. "That's why I'm here," she continued, "to ask you if I could use the Hogwarts library to do some research. There's a new menace threatening the peace we fought so hard to get, and I want to know who this man is and how he did what he did."

"Of course you can use the library, Hermione," stated Professor McGonagall. "It is at your disposition, as always." Hermione smiled at her. "Can you describe for me what he did? Maybe I can help you."

Hermione told her everything, including her current state ("Pregnant? Congratulations!") and what Gealt had done to her, which horrified her ("Merlin's beard! What a monster!"). Then Hermione related how the cloaked stranger had appeared, how he had beat the Death Eaters and then how he healed her.

When she finished, she looked at Professor McGonagall expectantly, hoping that the talented witch would be able to help her.

"I had never heard of such magic before," said the Headmistress. "Wandless magic is, of course, relatively frequent, but, to such extent? I had never heard of it, especially the way he healed you. You could go and see Madam Pomfrey and I'm sure she'd tell you that preventing a miscarriage and healing such damage is impossible without a wand."

"How did he do it, then?"

"I don't know," said McGonagall. "I don't know ... You didn't recognise anything about him? By the things you say, one would think he knew you."

"His voice sounded familiar," said Hermione. "But I didn't recognise it. He was tall. But he was wearing a black cloak, and I couldn't see his face."

"Was he wearing leather gloves?" asked suddenly a soft and kind voice.

Hermione looked up and found herself staring at Dumbledore's portrait, and then saw him looking at them with great interest.

"Professor Dumbledore?" asked Hermione, a bit surprised. She hadn't heard his voice since the night of the final battle, when Harry, Ron and she had come here to talk to him.

"Do you know something about this, Albus?" asked McGonagall, who had turned her head and was looking up as well.

"Did he, Mrs Granger?" demanded Dumbledore.

"Yes, he was wearing leather gloves," answered Hermione.

"And the hood covered his face completely, in a way you wonder how can he see?"

"Yes! I did ask myself exactly that," said Hermione, feeling the anticipation growing inside her. Was it possible that Dumbledore knew something? After all, he had been one of the greatest sorcerers of all time, and he always seemed to know everything.

"Do you — do you know who he is, Albus?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"I met him, yes."

"You did?" said Hermione, very excited. "When? Where? Who is he, Professor?"

"He talked to me on several occasions," Dumbledore explained. "However, I'm afraid his true identity is a complete mystery to me. He was, for sure, the most mysterious person I've ever met. I asked him who he was on several occasions, but he never told me and I never found out."

"How many occasions? When? Where?" demanded Hermione.

"I met him, for the first time, twenty-four years ago," Dumbledore answered. "Since then, he sought me a few times, always under that outfit. He never showed me such displays of magic, but he could do interesting things. I saw him Disapparate in this castle, once."

"You met him," repeated Hermione, astonished. "You met him ... twenty-four years ago ..."

"Yes."

"And he — he Disapparated _at_ Hogwarts? But that is — that —"

"— is impossible," finished Dumbledore, nodding. "At least, if you aren't the Headmaster and lift the spells, or so I believed until then."

"How many times did you see him?" asked Hermione. "What did he want?"

"I saw him four times," continued Dumbledore. "And each and every one of them it was he who sought me, and always to tell me something important I needed to know. However, he never explained to me how he did know those things, or anything else about him. And yet I was — and still am — sure that he meant well. And though he never revealed his identity, I am sure he was someone I knew."

"Why do you think that?" asked Hermione.

"Well, why would he have hidden his face but to prevent me from recognising him?"

"That makes sense," nodded Hermione, looking at the desk thoughtfully. She raised her eyes once more. "Don't you have any clue, Professor? If he is as powerful as he seems, there can't be a lot of people that could be he."

"So I believed, Mrs Granger ... but no, I haven't got any clue."

Hermione remained silent for a few seconds, thoughtful, and then asked, "Why did he never help us during the war?"

"He did help," said Dumbledore. "You just didn't know about it."

"How?" Hermione asked, very interested. "How did he help?"

"By telling me things I needed to know. Whether he did something else or not, I don't know. He was very secretive."

"He told me that terrible things were going to happen," said Hermione. "If he knows so much, why didn't he tell me more?"

"Yes, he was rather knowledgeable," nodded Dumbledore. He stared down at Hermione. "And I frequently wondered, too, why he didn't tell me more. I suppose he had his reasons, as I had mine." He made a short pause. "I don't know anything else, Mrs Granger. And I don't think you'll find anything useful in the library. I searched for answers, too, but never found anything. Of course, I could have missed something. If you want to check, I'd suggest you to look in the 'Magical Legends and Curiosities' section, but don't keep your hopes up. Whether we like it or not, some things are meant to remain a secret."

- o -

Dumbledore had been right. As Hermione walked down the muddy path towards the gates, she recalled the events of the day and what the old headmaster had told her.

She hadn't found anything in the library. She had spent two hours there before joining the inhabitants of the castle in the Great Hall, where Hagrid had fussed over her and had made her retell the story once more. After lunch, she had gone back to the library for three and a half more hours, but it had been useless.

Of course, it was difficult to start with, because she really didn't have anything specific to research. She had looked in books about advanced magic, wandless magic and even legends, but nothing. She hadn't found anything about people able to heal with their hands. And when she thought about it, what had the man _really _done? Using wandless magic? That wasn't even that extraordinary, even though he seemed really powerful. And yet, Hermione couldn't help — and Dumbledore's revelations added to it — thinking that there was much, much more.

So, tired of failing to find anything, and also a bit annoyed due to the amount of whispering in the library about her, she had sought Neville, said goodbye to him, done the same to Hagrid and headed for the gates.

Once outside the Hogwarts grounds, she turned to look one last time at the castle, all lit up, and smiled before turning on the spot and Disapparating.

She Apparated right at the front door of her and Ron's house. For a moment, an irrational fear gripped her, rendering her unable to move, but a moment later she realised she was just being stupid, so she opened the door and walked in. The first thing she noticed was that the living room and the stairs were completely repaired. There wasn't a trace of the battle that had happened here the day before. Then, she heard voices in the kitchen, so she went there to find Harry, his eyes closed and his wand raised, muttering enchantments.

Hermione smiled at the sight, and Harry seemed to sense her presence, because he opened his eyes and looked at her.

"Hey, Hermione," he greeted her with a smile. "We're almost done. I'm finishing reinforcing the protections, and Ron is doing the same upstairs."

"So everything's repaired, then?"

"Yeah. We left the house as if nothing had happened. Ron had to buy a new sofa, though. Your old one was too damaged. Completely burnt."

Hermione nodded.

"And what about you? How was the day at Hogwarts?"

But Hermione didn't answer. Instead, she turned round, because she had heard someone climbing down the stairs. Effectively, five seconds later Ron walked into the kitchen, and a broad grin appeared on his face when he saw her.

"Hello, love," he greeted her, moving closer to her and kissing her on the lips. "Did you have a good day at Hogwarts?"

"It was ... interesting," said Hermione.

"Interesting?" repeated Ron, his expression turning serious. "Did you find something?"

"Something," nodded Hermione.

"Wait!" exclaimed Harry. "Ginny is making dinner for the four of us. Tell us there and you won't have to tell the same story twice."

"It's fine with me," said Hermione. "I'm certainly tired of repeating the same story over and over again. When do we have to go? Have you finished here?"

"Yeah," answered Ron. "All the wards are checked and reinforced. We can get going. I'm pretty hungry."

Harry nodded and the three of them went to the fireplace, where, one by one, they travelled to New Home, Harry and Ginny's house in Godric's Hollow.

* * *

_Next chapter, around Wednesday, though I'm not sure. See you._


	5. Fear

_**Livi**__, you have little James here._

* * *

**PART I**

**TALES OF NEW MYSTERIES**

_**Chapter 5**_

**Fear**

* * *

New Home — a name that made reference to the fact that it was the Potters' _new _house in Godric's Hollow — was a nice and cosy house situated on the outskirts of the village. It wasn't a very big house, but enough to allow Harry to have the family he had always craved. While it wasn't invisible to Muggles like other Wizarding houses, it had a big back garden magically protected so, one day, Harry's children could play Quidditch or any other magical game without fear of being seen by Muggles. In addition, it was near the Potter's old home, where Harry had been born.

Hermione stepped out of the fireplace, and, after cleaning herself with a flick of her wand, took a quick look around at the cosy room that was half living room and half dining room, and then headed for the kitchen, following Harry.

Ginny was there, with Kreacher, both of them making dinner while little James — the nine month old son of Harry and Ginny — lay in his pushchair.

Ginny looked at them and smiled. "Ah, you're here," she said. "Sooner than I had thought."

"Yeah, we finished quickly," said Harry, giving her a kiss before focusing his complete attention on his son.

"Hi, little James," he said lovingly, taking the child in his arms.

Hermione couldn't help but smile at the sight. She had seen Harry smile a lot of times during the fourteen years they had been friends, but never like when he had his son in his arms.

"How's my favourite godson?" said Ron, walking past Hermione and grabbing the baby's little hand.

"He's your only godson, prat," said Ginny, grinning.

"And?" replied Ron, playing with the baby's nose and making him laugh merrily. "He _is _my favourite."

Hermione watched, amazed, as Harry and Ron played with the little child, and, almost unconsciously, her hands went to her belly and caressed it absentmindedly. Ron was going to be such a wonderful father, and she could barely wait to have her own child in her arms and see Ron with her.

"Did you repair your house, then?" Ginny asked Ron, cleaning her hands with a cloth.

"Yeah," nodded Ron. "Everything's like new."

"Dinner is ready!" then announced Kreacher, taking a dish of roast pork from the oven.

Harry put James back in his pushchair and, with a long sweep of his wand, set up the large table in the dining room. Ginny put the salad and the gravy on the table while Kreacher carried the pork. Ron, Hermione and Ginny sat down while Harry summoned a bottle of wine and another of water for Hermione.

"This looks delicious," said Ron, when they started to eat. "Well done, Ginny! You too, Kreacher!" he bellowed towards the kitchen.

"Thanks, Master Ronald," answered the elf.

"Ron, don't shout," Ginny scolded him.

For a few minutes, nobody said anything; everybody was too occupied eating. After a while, Ginny broke the silence.

"Harry has already told me what happened in the interrogation," she said in a serious tone. She looked at Hermione. "And that you were at Hogwarts. Did you find anything out?"

Hermione felt the eyes of her husband and friends on her. She took a sip of water before answering.

"Not in the library," she explained. "But yes, I discovered something ... interesting." She made a pause before adding, "Dumbledore's portrait told me that he knew the cloaked man."

"WHAT?" yelled Ron and Harry at the same time.

"Don't shout!" Ginny scolded, scowling at them.

"Sorry," said Harry in a much lower tone. "Hermione, explain that."

Hermione started to relate everything Dumbledore had told her. When she finished, a heavy silence fell over the four friends.

"So, in short, we know nothing," said Ron, looking clearly disappointed. "Dumbledore didn't know anything."

"Dumbledore didn't tell you what they talked about in those meetings?" asked Harry.

"No," said Hermione. "As I said, he only mentioned that he — the cloaked man — was very knowledgeable, that he had told him important things."

"How do you know it is the same person?" interjected Ginny.

"Dumbledore recognised him for his clothes," explained Hermione.

"Yes, but both you and he saw him with his head covered. How do you know it is the same person?"

"Who else could he be?" asked Ron, staring at Ginny. "How many people exist that dress like that and have those, er ... abilities?"

"I don't know," said Ginny. "And neither do you."

"Nobody knows for sure, but given that the clothes and description match, I think that it is very likely they are the same person. We should assume that, but without closing any possibility," intervened Harry, settling the discussion.

"And what is the next course of action, then?" asked Ginny.

"Well, we can't do much," commented Harry. "Tomorrow we'll see whether Terry and Julie find that cave or not, and, if they do, what they discover there."

After that, the conversation moved to more normal things, Hermione telling them about Neville, Hagrid, and everyone else at Hogwarts. A moment later Harry cleaned the table, and took the dishes to the kitchen, and Kreacher brought the pudding, a delicious treacle tart.

Once dinner was over, Harry and Ron cleared the table, while Hermione accompanied Ginny to put James on his cot, because he was already asleep.

"He is adorable," commented Hermione with a grin, once they were in James' room and he was settled in his cot.

"He is," agreed Ginny proudly. Then she raised her gaze and looked at Hermione. "You wish you had your daughter here, don't you?" she asked with a knowing grin.

"I do," Hermione nodded, caressing her belly.

"Well, you'll think otherwise when you spend a few nights up," commented Ginny jokingly.

"But it's worth it," replied Hermione seriously.

"Yeah, it is," confirmed Ginny, and both women left the room. Ginny cast the Supersensory Charm that would alert them if the baby woke up, and then they joined Ron and Harry in the living room.

The four friends chatted for another hour, and then Ron and Hermione announced it was time to go home.

After stepping out of the fireplace, both of them headed for their room. Hermione couldn't help but feel a bit apprehensive. She knew it was something irrational, but she couldn't help it.

Sensing her distress, Ron leaned towards her and kissed her on the cheek, making her smile. Then he opened the door of their bedroom and headed for their bathroom. Hermione followed him, and, after they had brushed their teeth, she walked back into the bedroom while Ron used the toilet. She took off her clothes, trying to avoid thinking about what had happened to her in this room, just one day ago. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, clad only in her simple white underwear, when she felt a shiver run down her spine and turned towards the bathroom. Ron was there, leaning against the doorframe and watching her with a smile on his lips.

"Did I tell you today how hot you are?" he asked her.

She tried not to blush, something she couldn't always avoid, despite having been with him for seven years and shared a bed with him for six.

"I'm not hot," she replied, feeling her body heat up under his stare.

"Yes, you are. Hottest girl in the world," he stated, and moved until he could put his arms around her. "You drive me mad," he whispered huskily into her left ear, before nibbling softly at her neck, causing goose bumps to erupt all over her body.

"Ron ..."

"I promised you a bath," he continued, kissing her jaw and cheeks but avoiding her slightly open mouth. "Do you want me to run you one ... and to join you?" he asked, and bit her right ear playfully.

"Too late for that," she said with a soft moan, her eyes closed. "Tomorrow. Now I think it's time for bed."

"It definitely is," he said, licking a path from her neck to the valley between her breasts and burying his face there, eliciting new moans from her.

"Oh, Ron ..." she moaned, and put her own hands on his head, raking her fingers through his hair and pressing him against her more forcefully. "You ... too many clothes —"

"You too," Ron said, sliding his hands over her back while sucking the visible part of her breasts. "These tits need all my attention," he added, while trying to unsnap her bra, which he did on the second attempt. A moment later, he took it off her and latched immediately to her left nipple, almost with desperation, causing Hermione to arch her back and push her breasts more into his greedy mouth.

"Take off your clothes, Ron. Take them off NOW!" she demanded, already crazy with desire for him.

"I — can't," he said, switching breasts. "I'd have to stop doing this, and you taste and smell so bloody good."

"Ron, please ..."

But Ron seemed not to have heard her. He put his big hands under her arse, lifted her off the floor, making her put her legs around his waist, and, with his head still on her breasts, took her to the bed and lay her gently on it, before releasing her nipple and kissing and licking a path down her stomach and towards her crotch. The contact of his wet lips against her skin was causing a stream of fire to run through her veins.

Slowly, he began to spread kisses upon her thighs, making her moan. Then he put his mouth over her knickers, which were already damp, and breathed in her scent — something that always made her blush a bit — before hooking his fingers on the waistband and pulling the garment down her legs, baring her to his hungry gaze.

"So wet for me," he whispered huskily, and gave her a long lick that caused her to open her legs and moan loudly.

"More," she asked. "More, Ron. Don't stop."

"I don't intend to," he said, licking her again while he caressed her thighs. "Not until I'm sated."

"Yes, please," she begged.

And so he began to feast on her, alternating long licks with sucks on her clit. After a few minutes of this treatment, when she was panting heavily and thrashing on the bed, he drove his tongue in her, as deep as he could go, and used his fingers to stroke her clit until a very strong orgasm washed over her, leaving her boneless, dizzy and panting on the bed.

"Merlin, Ron ... that — that was ..."

"Incredible, I know," she looked at him and saw him licking his lips. His eyes were filled with lust. "You taste amazing," he added, before crawling over her and positioning himself at her entrance. "I cannot wait any longer."

"Don't," she said, putting her legs and arms around him.

Ron thrust into her, and both of them moaned with pleasure. He kissed her, hard, and began to move in and out, quicker and quicker. He put his left arm under her, and pressed her body against his. She put her hands on his arse, and pushed him against her, wanting — needing — him to go as deep inside her as possible.

"Fuck, Hermione. You feel so good, so wet, tight and warm around me that I think I won't be able to last ..." he moaned while he began to kiss her neck, descending then towards her rising and falling breasts. He took one of her nipples in his mouth and sucked hard, and she gave an almost involuntary spasm and opened her thighs even more, causing him to sink even deeper inside her.

"Oh, God, Ron! More, more, please!"

"Yes, more, more, more!" he moaned, accelerating the movement of his hips. "Hermione, fuck, I'm almost there!"

And then, she took one hand from his arse, put it between them and began to touch her own clit in circular motions in sync with his powerful thrusts. Ron, noticing that, began to pound her even harder.

"Fuck, Hermione, that's so hot!"

"Ron, Ron, I'm almost there ... Suck my breasts, please!"

"Ah, Merlin, Hermione!" he yelled, thrusting hard.

"Ron, please!"

"Please what?"

"Suck my breasts!"

"What?" he asked, teasing her, slowing his movements but making them more powerful.

"Suck my tits, please ..."

"Holy Merlin, yes!" he said, and bent down to devour them. She felt him tug at her left nipple, while his right hand kneaded her right breast roughly, and she fell over the edge even harder than before.

"Oh, oh, Ron, Ron, RON!"

"Fuck, Hermione! Come for me, love, just like that!" He began to thrust even harder. "Fuck, yes, Hermione! I'm coming, coming inside you!" Barely twenty seconds afterwards, he buried himself completely inside her and came.

He fell gently over her, and, after a few moments to regain their breathing, he kissed her, long and lovingly.

"It was fantastic," he said, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"Wonderful," she added, returning the smile and kissing him again. "I love you, Ron."

"You always say that when I make you cum," he said cheekily, getting off her.

"Idiot," she replied, smacking his bum playfully. He laughed, and then pulled her against him and embraced her the way she loved.

"I love you, too," he whispered a moment later, giving her one last kiss and closing his eyes. She closed hers, too, and drifted off to sleep, a happy smile on her face.

— o —

"_Stupefy!"_

"_Crucio!_"

With her head and shoulders lowered to avoid the streaks of light, Hermione, ran towards the stairs and then upwards, using her own wand to shoot a spell towards the men trying to kill her, not stopping even to check if she had struck them or not. Once on the second floor, she turned right and ran towards her bedroom. But before entering the room, she wheeled around and shot a Blasting Curse against the stairs. There was a deafening noise, and the whole staircase crumbled, causing a thick cloud of dust to rise up in the air.

The yells of some of her enemies told her that she had, at least, injured one of them. Satisfied by that thought, but still terribly scared, she entered the room and rested against the wall, panting heavily and thinking what to do next.

_I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here ..._

Moving again, she spun around, trying to Disapparate into the Ministry, so she could ask for help. Instead of vanishing, she felt the constricting sensation and then just fell onto the floor, out of breath; the Dark wizards had put charms to prevent anyone from Disapparating from the house.

She heard more yells coming from where the staircase had been, and, making a great effort, she lifted her head and torso to take a look. One of the men was rising in the air slowly, looking for her right and left.

Taking a second to regain her breath, Hermione aimed her wand and shot a Suffocating Curse at him. The time for niceties had long gone; these men-these _monsters_ - were trying to kill her and her baby, and she was not going to allow it.

However, the man saw the beam of light and was able to dodge it, but he lost his concentration and Hermione saw him fall.

"FUCK! That Mudblood bitch is in the bedroom!" she heard him yell between moans of pain.

"We have to get her!" shouted another man, clearly angry. "Look what she did to Pucey! I want to rip her throat with my own hands!"

Hermione tried to get up, still panting and a bit sore. She had never attempted to Apparate out of or into a place protected against it, and certainly she had to admit there were good reasons for not doing so.

With an effort, she got onto her knees, and was about to get to her feet when a new explosion shook the entire house. The floor broke into pieces, and she fell, screaming in terror, and hit the floor beneath with a loud thud, breaking one leg and scratching and cutting her body with all the rubble onto which she had fallen.

"AAAH!" she screamed, closing her eyes in pain.

"That's how I want to see a filthy Mudblood," she heard one of the men say, the relish evident in his cruel voice, "lying in pain on the floor, at the feet of her superiors."

"You're not the only one who can blast things," said another voice, the voice of the man she had thought of as the leader. "Now, what can we do with you?"

Finally, Hermione opened her eyes and looked up. Through the dust that was still floating, she could see three of the attackers, staring at her with hungry gazes and obvious joy at her current predicament. She was scared to death, but she was not going to show it. She was going to show them who she was. She had stood up to Bellatrix Lestrange, and had lied to her face while she was being tortured, and surely these men weren't worse that Voldemort's most faithful servant —

"AAAAAGH!" she yelled, her body convulsing on the floor due to a sudden and terrible pain. Her bones felt like they were on fire; her flesh felt as if it were being sliced with dozens of knives; her head was about to explode ... it was, again, the terrible Cruciatus Curse. And in the midst of pain, a terrible thought occurred to her: _The baby, what is this going to do to the baby?_

A moment later, the curse was lifted, and she recoiled, trying to get away from them, hurt and more scared than ever.

"My baby," she said, sobbing, her pride forgotten, because what did her pride mean when the life of her first child was at stake?

"Your baby," the leader of the men said, with obvious disgust. "The brat of a Mudblood and a blood traitor. Such an abomination shouldn't ever see the light of day."

"No, no, please ..." Hermione begged, sliding through the pieces of the floor, getting more cuts and scratches but not even acknowledging it. "It's just a child, just a child ..."

"It's a desecration of wizardkind!" yelled one of the other men, and advanced upon her. Then, suddenly, he gave her a strong kick in her stomach, causing her to scream in pain and to curl on the floor.

"NO, NO, PLEASE!"

"Yes, scream, scream, little Mudblood whore!" the man yelled, half laughing, and kicked her again, and again, and once more.

"Enough!" ordered the leader, and the brute stopped and walked back, leaving Hermione curling on the floor, crying. The pain in her abdomen was terrible.

_My baby ... My baby ... Our baby ..._

"Time to die, Mudblood."

Hermione opened her eyes, her eyesight blurry because of her tears, and saw the man pointing his wand at her. Not knowing why, she looked past them, towards the shelves on the other side of the room, feeling something strange, as if something, or someone, should be there ...

"Ron," she cried, closing her eyes again. "Ron, help me. You said you'd do anything ... anything, Ron. Please, help us, help us ..."

The three men laughed at her despair.

"_Avada —_"

She closed her eyes even more tightly. _Ron ..._

"— _Kedavra!_"

Even through her closed eyelids she could perceive the greenish light, and still could hear the laughing —

_I love you, Ron._

— and then ... nothing.

— o —

"NOOO! NO! NO!"

"Ron? Ron, what's the matter? Are you all right?"

Ron sat up on the bed, utterly scared and trembling like never before. His hands were shaking; his face and hair were damp with sweat; and his heart was beating so fast he feared it would jump out of his chest.

"Ron — love?" repeated Hermione's soft voice beside him.

When Ron didn't answer, she turned on the lights, and he looked at her, at her wild hair, at her beautiful face and her brown eyes, now focused on him and full of worry.

"A nightmare," Ron said at last. "It was ... a nightmare."

"A nightmare?" Hermione asked, and moved one of her hands to caress his sweaty face. "Well, it's over now, Ron. It's over," she said in a soothing tone. "Was it that bad?" she asked with sympathy.

Ron wanted to speak, but was simply unable to do so. Fuck, he had had nightmares before, of course, but never, ever like this one. It wasn't that he had been dreaming about Hermione; in the dream _he was Hermione_.

A shiver ran down his spine, and he closed his eyes for a moment. But the instant he did, he saw it all again: the men's faces, the curses soaring, the floor crumbling ...

He didn't want to relive it; it was too terrible, so he opened his eyes again and focused them on Hermione's. She was still looking at him, expectantly waiting for an explanation.

"It was ... about you," he said finally. "About the attack. But I was you, Hermione. I could feel everything: your pain, your fear ... Merlin, I could even feel ..." He put his hands over his naked stomach, almost expecting to feel the life growing inside him. But how the hell was that possible?

"You could feel — what?" asked Hermione looking down at his hands in confusion.

"The baby," he answered. "I could feel the baby inside me." His eyes found hers once more, which were now open wide in surprise. "I've never been more scared in my life, Hermione."

He closed his eyes again, and for a moment, all those past moments of fear came back to him: seeing Hermione petrified; seeing her, motionless, in the hospital wing, at the end of fifth year; hearing her cries while she was being tortured by Bellatrix; finding her, unconscious and hurt, in the midst of the wreckage, after the attack ...

He shuddered.

"Ron," Hermione said, hugging him, so he could feel her bare skin against his, "it's over. It was just a dream."

"No, it wasn't," replied Ron shaking his head. "I've never — not like this," he stated. "You called for me, Hermione. Or rather, I called for me, begged for help, saying that I had told you I'd do anything to protect you. _Anything_. But this time no one came to help, and they — they —"

He realised he was crying.

"I can't lose you."

"You're not going to lose me, Ron," assured Hermione, wiping away his tears tenderly. "I'm here. I'm here and it is over."

"It's not over," Ron replied stubbornly. "Someone ordered that attack, someone that is out there, planning Merlin knows what. And I won't stop until he is rotting in Azkaban, or six feet under, where he belongs."

Hermione didn't say anything; instead, she simply kissed him sweetly.

"Not now, Ron. Don't think about that now."

Ron embraced her, as tightly as he could, feeling her warm, soft and naked body against his. He kissed her neck, feeling her unique taste, that taste that could drive him mad. Then he buried his left hand in her hair, that hair some people despised but that he simply loved. He could not lose Hermione. He wouldn't lose Hermione. Neither her, nor his daughter. He couldn't.

Slowly, Hermione made him lie down. She did the same, and then kissed him on the lips once more.

"I'm with you, Ron," she said, caressing his face and looking at him in the eye. "I will always be with you. Always, do you understand?" He nodded. "Let's go back to sleep, shall we?"

Hermione made an attempt to pull a bit apart, but Ron wouldn't have any of it. In a quick move, he made her roll over and pulled her body against his, so her back was pressed against his chest, his left arm under her neck and the right enveloping her torso, his hand over her stomach, which he caressed.

"Stay close to me," he whispered into her ear.

"Okay," she answered, pressing her body even more firmly against his. Ron buried his face in her head, breathing in her scent, and then kissed the back of her neck, eliciting a soft moan from her. That sound, and the fear he still felt, drove him mad, and suddenly he realised that he wanted her, wanted her now, to feel her, to devour her, and to bury himself in her.

He bit her neck gently and at the same time thrust his hips against her arse, so his still soft cock was placed between her buttocks. That wonderful feeling excited him even more, and he felt his cock harden.

Hermione, feeling it as well, pressed her bum against him, trying to get more contact, more pressure from his cock against the crack of her arse, something he knew she simply loved. Oh, they had never had anal sex. Neither of them had ever suggested it, but it was a secret fantasy of his, and he loved to feel his cock against the soft globes of her arse.

"Ron ..." she moaned, writhing on the bed.

"I need you, Hermione. I need to feel you."

"Yes, Ron."

Ron licked and bit her neck until he reached her earlobe. Meanwhile, he moved, with difficulty, his left arm until he could grab her left tit with his hand. With his right hand, he caressed her belly until he moved it to grab the other breast, and once both of them were in his hands, he kneaded them a bit roughly.

His cock was painfully hard now, and he started thrusting harder and quicker against her arse, wanting nothing more than to bury himself to the hilt inside her and fuck her until both of them were spent and too tired to move.

But that would have to wait. After kissing her neck and touching her tits for a few minutes, Ron slid his right hand down her body, very slowly, until he reached the curls between her legs. Hermione moaned louder, pressing her arse even more forcefully against his cock, and opened her legs to give him access.

"Yes, Ron, touch me; touch me, please. You're driving me mad."

Ron slid two fingers down her slit, finding her wet and ready for him, and grazed her clit softly, causing a new moan that made his cock even harder, if possible.

"I'm gonna touch you," he whispered huskily. "And I won't stop until you're coming between my arms, Hermione. I want you to come. Hard."

"Anything. Anything, Ron. But don't stop."

Ron wasn't going to. He caressed Hermione's cunt a few more times, thrusting his aching cock against her and kneading her breast, and then took her clit between two fingers and started stroking it in circular motions.

Hermione started to writhe on the bed, overwhelmed by the pleasure. Ron, sensing her impending climax, increased his movements. Hermione moved her right hand, too, and put it between their bodies, caressing his balls between his legs and making him thrust against her harder.

"Oh, Hermione!"

"Ron, I'm almost there, Ron — Keep going, keep doing it like that, please!"

Ron increased the pace of his finger even more. Hermione's moans became louder, and she stopped moving her hand, too overwhelmed with her own feelings to be able to think about controlling her limbs. Her hips started to grind against his without control and, with a scream, she came.

"Oh, yes! Oh, oh, OH!"

Ron kept caressing her, prolonging the feeling until she was too sensitive to resist it and closed her thighs to still his hand. Ron finally stopped, and both of them stayed like that, panting heavily.

"God, Ron ... That was ... so intense."

"I love seeing you out of control," Ron said.

Ron kissed her on the cheek, and then moved his tired and almost sore hand, and used it to raise Hermione's right leg.

"Ron, what —? Ah, fuck!"

"Fuck, yesss," he hissed, now completely buried inside her tight, soft cunt from behind, feeling her arse against his hips and abdomen. "Hermione, I need you."

"Ron ..."

Ron started to thrust, his pace growing faster and faster. She felt simply incredible and he needed his own climax, to cum hard inside her, to feel her, to forget about the dream in the blissfulness of an orgasm ...

It didn't take a lot of time, excited as he was. His thrusts became incredibly quick. He was now almost above her, feeling her wetness wrapped around him. He put his right hand on her tits and grabbed them. Then bit the back of her neck and, after a few more forceful thrusts, he buried himself completely in her and came hard.

"Oh, fuck, Hermione! Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"Ah, Ron!"

His body completely relaxed, Ron rested against Hermione, using his last ounces of energy to put a few kisses on her shoulder.

"I love you, Hermione."

Hermione turned her head to look at him, a smile of pure love and contentment on her face. "I love you too, Ron."

Ron put the blankets back over them, and they snuggled on the bed, tightly embraced. Soon, Ron could feel Hermione's soft, even breathing that indicated that she was asleep.

But the bliss of physical pleasure didn't help Ron embrace slumber. Every time he closed his eyes, he could hear Hermione's pleas again.

_Help me, Ron. You said you'd do anything. Anything ..._

Anything.

Ron felt the cold paws of fear grip him.

It was a long time before he finally fell asleep.

* * *

_Not the most eventful of chapters, but some love is always good, I think. Next chapter ... around Friday or Saturday._


	6. Death Strikes

_Many thanks to __**Maybe Once**__ for the useful information about the Ms/Mrs thing._

_Now, regarding some comments ... It is true that you can find some similarities between this story and TFLDotW, especially the mystery, and the fact that there is a cloaked stranger with apparently strange powers — though in TFLDotW the stranger's identity was not part of the mystery — but bear in mind that both stories have absolutely nothing to do with each other._

* * *

**PART I**

**TALES OF NEW MYSTERIES**

_**Chapter 6**_

**Death Strikes**

* * *

"Ron looks horrible," commented Harry to Hermione while they shared a tea in the Ministry canteen. It was something they did every day, except if one of them was especially busy (usually Hermione). Ron had got up and was walking towards the bathroom, and Harry was following him with his eyes, a concerned expression on his face. When Ron finally disappeared from his sight through the door, he turned his head and looked at Hermione once more. "Didn't he sleep—" Harry turned red and looked down at his tea, trying to avoid Hermione's stare. "Bad question, sorry."

"Nightmares," said Hermione, not really acknowledging Harry's embarrassment. She, too, had noticed. Ron had told her he was 'fine' that morning, after they had woken up, but she hadn't stopped wondering if Ron had had more nightmares or if he had slept at all. After the wonderful sex they had had, she had fallen asleep immediately, so she didn't know if he had done the same or not.

"Nightmares?" asked Harry, furrowing his brow.

"He dreamt about the attack," explained Hermione, and took a sip of her tea. "He woke up yelling like crazy, and was pale and sweaty. For a moment I thought he was suffering some kind of seizure."

"Well, it is understandable, I suppose," commented Harry. After all, he knew everything about nightmares.

"But he dreamt he was _me_," she told him. "With the difference that, this time, no one came to save me, so —" she shook her head, unable to say the words.

Harry stared at her for a few seconds. "Do you want me to talk to him?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. I asked him this morning, but he didn't seem to want to talk about it."

"I could tell Julie," said Harry. "Sometimes she can get anything out of him. In fact, she's the best at it. After you, of course."

"She'll worry about him, and they already have enough on their plate," answered Hermione. "They're going in search of that cave, aren't they?"

"Yeah, they are," nodded Harry, checking his watch. "In fact, they should be heading to Scotland soon."

"How many Aurors are going?" asked Hermione.

"Four," answered Harry. "Julie, Terry, Lewis Thydeen and Angus Crowdford."

"I wish I could go with them," interjected Ron, sitting again beside Hermione and taking his cup in his hand. He took a sip, and Hermione watched him. He still looked a bit pale and much more serious than usual. "We should talk to Blevelty once more," he added, looking at Harry, after putting the cup back on the table.

"I don't know, Ron. You know he's not going to change his mind."

"I want to go, Harry. _I need to go_. Something's not right, I know it."

"What do you mean?" asked Harry, frowning in confusion. "Is this because of that dream you had?"

Ron stared at Harry, open-mouthed, and then frowned. "How do you know ab—" He turned his head and scowled at Hermione. "You told him."

"He was worried," said Hermione apologetically.

Ron huffed. "Well, yes, the dream is part of it, but not all of it. I just have this feeling ..." he clenched and opened his hands on the table and then shook his head, as if he couldn't find the proper words to express his feelings.

"I don't think anything's gonna happen," said Harry. "At least, not today. I mean, even if they used those caves for past meetings, I imagine that, after seeing that those four have been caught, whoever is behind this will have left them. It would be stupid not to do so."

"Harry's right," agreed Hermione, nodding, and looked at Ron. "Don't worry."

Ron simply let out a non-committal grunt and took a new sip of tea. Harry stared at him knowingly.

"Are you worried about Julie?"

"Of course I'm worried about her," said Ron. "I was her trainer; she's my responsibility ... and my friend."

Hermione looked at him and put one hand over his left one.

"She's a good Auror, Ron. She's skilled. She's been on missions before."

"Not like this one," he replied. "What if I didn't train her well enough? I was too young when she was assigned to me. What if —?"

"_Ron_," Hermione said, in her scolding tone, and clutched his hand in hers. "You did well. You had taken part in the detention of how many escaped Death Eaters before training her?"

Ron merely grunted.

"And I was just fifteen when you told me I'd be a good teacher for the DA. And well, I think it turned out all right, didn't it?" interjected Harry. "So what does youth have to do with anything?"

"My thoughts exactly," said Hermione vehemently. She sat up straight and faced Ron once more. "Ron, I think you're just letting that dream scare you. You have to get over it."

"Yesterday, you were the one telling me you had a bad feeling, Hermione," retorted Ron.

"And I do. But we can't allow those feelings to overwhelm us and dictate our lives," she stated, before releasing Ron's hand and drinking the rest of her tea. Then she looked at her watch and started to get up. "We'd better go back to work."

"Oh, there you are!"

Hermione looked in the direction of the voice and saw Julie approaching their table.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked.

Julie opened her mouth as to answer Harry, but then she saw Ron's face and furrowed her brow.

"For Merlin's sake, Ron. You look awful. An interesting night?" she asked, smirking. "Hermione looks normal, though ..."

Images of last night events came to Hermione's mind, and she tried to hide her blush. Ron, however, neither blushed nor scolded Julie as he usually did. He simply stared at her, completely serious. And upon noticing this, Julie's expression turned serious, too.

"What's the matter, Ron?" She looked at Hermione. "Hermione?"

"Are you going to that cave?" Ron asked, ignoring Julie's previous questions and comments. "Now?"

"Yeah," nodded Julie. "I came precisely to inform you two of that."

"You'll be careful, won't you?" Ron said.

"I always am," responded Julie, surprised at Ron's concern. "You're acting very odd, Ron."

"Be very careful," Ron insisted, ignoring her words, "and if something seems strange, I want you to call for reinforcements immediately, okay?"

"Ron, I've been on missions before. What's with you today?"

"Just promise that you'll be very careful and will call if something seems odd," Ron insisted, his tone serious and demanding.

"Ron —"

"_Just promise_, Julie."

"Okay, okay. I promise. Happy?"

"No, but it'll have to do."

"We'd better go back," said Harry, and stood up. "I want to revise your plan, if that's okay with you." Julie nodded and the four of them headed for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Once there, Hermione wished Julie good luck and walked towards her office.

Once inside, she took a folder full of pieces of parchment from a drawer and then walked to her chair and sat down on it. She had just opened the folder when someone knocked on the door.

"Come in."

The door opened, and, to her surprise, a very serious Julie walked in and closed the door.

"Julie?" Hermione asked in surprise. "Has something happened? Do you need something?"

"What's the matter with Ron?"

Hermione blinked a few times at the sudden question. "He's worried," she said at last.

"I've known him since I applied to be an Auror, five years ago, and he's the least serious person I've ever met. I've been on missions before, with and without him, and he usually makes jokes. He always tells me to be careful, yes, but not like today. Never like today." Julie made a pause, lowered her gaze and then looked up again, straight into Hermione's eyes. "I mean, I know that you were attacked two days ago, and he's going to be a father and all that, but — I don't know. Is there ... something I don't know?"

Hermione sighed and stared into Julie's brown eyes. "He had an awful dream last night."

"A nightmare?" Julie asked, furrowing her brow in incredulity. "He's like that just because of a_ nightmare?_ Did he see me dying or something like that?"

"No, it was about me," explained Hermione. "But you're right, I had never seen him like that." Hermione lowered her gaze and sighed. "I think a part is my fault. I told him I felt something horrible is going to happen, and now, with that dream ..." she explained, her voice tailing away.

"Do you think all this is reminding him of the war?" asked Julie. "I mean, he lost a brother then."

"Maybe," said Hermione.

"Well, I hope that when we come back safe and sound he'll be back to his true self." Julie stood up and smiled at Hermione, though she noticed the smile was a bit forced. "I have to get going. Goodbye, Hermione."

"Goodbye, Julie."

Julie walked towards the door and Hermione followed her with her eyes. But before the other girl could exit the office through the now open door, she called her.

"Julie."

"Yes?" she asked, turning round and fixing her eyes on Hermione.

"Be careful."

Julie smiled at her. "I will be."

The door closed and Hermione was left alone in her office. She looked back at the parchment, but, after realising that she had read the same line ten times without getting its meaning, she leaned against the back of her chair and rubbed her eyes, sighing. Ron's fear was making her feel anxious again, as much as if he and Harry were out there, in danger.

_But they aren't_, Hermione told herself. _They are here, and safe._

_But Julie's out there. And Terry Boot, too._

It was true. Despite her initial jealousy towards the girl, Hermione had grown very fond of her. With a sad smile, she remembered when Ron had told her he and Harry had been assigned two trainees in their final preparatory year. He was more nervous than how Hermione had seen him in a long time. He had gone on and on about how he was still too young to be the mentor of other Aurors, and that Blevelty should have assigned an older, more experienced Auror to her.

Hermione had told him that he had done a lot since he had joined the Aurors, and that he had a lot of experience, too. If Blevelty had chosen him, she had argued, then surely Ron was more than ready to train another Auror.

Ron wasn't very convinced at first, but, as the weeks went by, that changed completely. He became rather happy about the arrangement and very proud of his trainee and the job he was doing with her. He started to talk about Julie practically every day, and Hermione had begun to feel the monster of jealousy wake up inside her.

Because yes, she was a jealous person. No matter how much she hated it or would try to deny it, she had a natural tendency to jealousy when it came to Ron. Ron had it, too, but, while he was more clear and open about it — you knew immediately whether he was jealous or not — Hermione was more subtle, and yet, in a way, much worse.

At first, she had been able to control it. She was happy for Ron, and didn't want to spoil this opportunity. So, when annoyance grew inside her at the mention of Julie's name, she tried to ignore it or blame it on something else. She wasn't ready to admit, even to herself, that she was jealous, and, for a while, she succeeded in ignoring it.

Until the day they finally met.

It had happened almost six months after Ron had been made Julie's trainer. By then, Hermione was still in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, having just achieved what she had pursued since she had founded S.P.E.W., back at Hogwarts. The law about house elves had been approved, and she felt it was time, after four years, to change departments and make a difference in other places. She had gone to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to present her application, and, once there, she had decided to go and visit Harry and Ron. She was in Ron's cubicle when Julie had walked in.

Hermione saw Ron smile at her, and immediately took in the appearance of the girl: slim and fit body, pretty face, sleek, short brown hair, bright brown eyes and a dashing smile. She wasn't a world class beauty, but looked stunning.

She barely heard Ron introduce them, and it was more instinct than will that had made her shake Julie's hand, because the only thing she could really hear was the roar of the monster inside her; a monster that had grown feeding off her fears and her insecurities in the darkest corners of her mind. And now it was fully awake, enormous and uncontrollable, and was telling her that this spirited, pretty and funny woman that was all smiles was spending entire days with her Ron. Her Ron, who was always talking about her.

Hermione had to admit that the girl was charming, and seemed to be delighted about meeting her, but all her friendliness was hitting an impenetrable wall. Not that Hermione had let them notice, of course; she had been perfectly professional and polite and she even had smiled at her. But there was no warmth in that smile. All of it had been devoured by the cold, green monster living inside her.

During the next months, she had tried not to scowl or to snap at Ron every time he talked about her or mentioned her name. Deep inside, Hermione knew she was just being irrational, but she simply couldn't help it. However, she managed to control her emotions, and finally, when Julie's training was about to end, she had started to relax and had let her guard down, thinking that, at last, things would go back to normal. Ron wouldn't have to spend so much time with her now. In fact, she had thought, there wouldn't be any reason for him to talk to her at all, except to say 'Hi' and 'Goodbye.'

By the time Julie's training came to an end, Hermione had become an official in the Department, so she had had to attend the ceremony in which the trainees would be invested as Aurors. As the event went on, she had watched Ron, and seen how proud he was that his apprentice had achieved becoming an Auror. And every time their gazes met, she had smiled at him warmly. She too, was very proud of him. Surely he being a trainer had been a good thing. It had done a lot for him, and, after all, the girl was nice, skilled and intelligent. She had been unfair to her...

That line of thinking had made her feel very good. It seemed that the green monster, whose existence she still tried to ignore as much as she could, was definitely gone.

However, all her good intentions were blown to pieces when, once they were back at their home and about to start making dinner, Ron had blurted out, "I want to invite Julie over for dinner someday. Now she's not my apprentice, so we can be friends and — Hermione?"

Ron's unexpected words had caught her completely by surprise, and had turned her previous happiness into a terrible anger. The smile on her face had turned into a deep scowl, and, when he said her name, she was looking at him as if he had committed the worst crime in Wizarding history.

"Of course!" she yelled, moving away from him. "Let's invite _perfect_ Julie over!"

Ron looked at her, bewildered at her sudden outburst. "Hermione, what's your problem?"

"Oh, I don't know!" shouted Hermione, throwing her arms up in frustration. "You couldn't wait for this day, could you? Now _at last_ you can have _Julie_ over! For dinner and, who knows, maybe for a shag, too!"

"WHAT!" Ron bellowed in response, his ears turning red in confusion. "Hermione, what are you saying?" he asked, perplexed. But barely a second later, his eyes widened in understanding, and he exclaimed, "You're jealous of Julie!" before making the mistake of laughing loudly.

His laugh made her become completely irrational.

"Oh, so it's funny, is it?" she shouted, furious beyond reason. She was furious at Julie, furious at Ron, and, above all else, furious at herself. "Good to know! I'll leave you alone then, so you can have Julie for dinner, and then she might warm your bed, too, because I certainly won't!"

Ron's laughter died instantly, but, before he could say anything else, Hermione had turned on the spot and Apparated to her parents' house. It was a miracle she hadn't splinched herself.

That had been one of the most horrible nights of her life — at least, since the war had ended. After telling her shocked parents that she had had a row with Ron, she and her mother sat together in the kitchen, and she explained everything to her in front of a steaming cup of tea. When she finished talking, her anger and irrationality had started to fade, and had been replaced by shame. Finally, she had ended up crying on her shoulder, while her mother sighed and stroked her head lovingly. Once she had put herself a bit together, they had a talk and Hermione confessed that she had acted like a stupid girl, because she didn't believe that Ron wanted Julie, or that he didn't love her — Hermione — anymore.

Her mother had let her spend the night there, with the condition that she would go home and talk to Ron first thing in the morning. So Hermione had laid, awake, on her childhood bed, crying and thinking. Part of her expected Ron to knock on the door at any moment. Surely he knew she was there. But another part was sure that he wouldn't. Hermione had hurt him with her accusation, and besides jealousy, they shared their stubbornness, so he wasn't going to go after her, even if he were dying to do so. Besides, it wasn't as if she deserved for Ron to come after her.

As the night went by, she had started to feel even more ashamed of herself. This was worse than when she had set those canaries on him. At least, she had had a reason to be jealous then. But what excuse did she have now? She had let those feelings grow inside her, trying to push them away and ignore them instead of talking to him, and the whole thing had blown up in her face. She was always the one telling Ron and Harry not to bottle things up, and what had she done? Exactly that. And as a result, she had accused Ron of something horrible — something she knew he would never do. She imagined him, alone at home, pacing the living room, a murderous look on his face — or maybe one of pain and longing? Several times, she thought about going home before morning, but the shame she felt was too great. And besides, another fear had begun to creep up on her. What if he was so hurt that he didn't want her to come back?

Finally, after hours of struggling and thrashing, she had fallen into an uneasy sleep. She had got up early the next day, but had refused the breakfast her mother had offered her, too nervous to eat anything; she had gone home, not knowing what to expect and dreading the worse. Feeling more cowardly than ever before, she had half-hoped that Ron would have gone to New Home or The Burrow; however, she found him lying on the sofa, already awake, dressed only in pants and a t-shirt. He didn't look like someone who had had a peaceful night of sleep.

"Oh, you're here," she said upon seeing him. The words had barely escaped her mouth when she slapped herself mentally for saying something so stupid.

Ron simply looked at her and scowled. "Did you expect me to be at Julie's?" he asked, in a hurtful manner. "Or maybe you thought we would be in the bedroom, having a morning shag?"

"I'm sorry."

"You should take a look to make sure she didn't leave her knickers on our bed!" Ron continued, either not having heard her or ignoring her feeble apology.

"I'm sorry," she repeated in a louder tone, blushing in shame and lowering her gaze.

"Or maybe — What?"

"I'm sorry. I'm stupid, okay?" she said, on the verge of tears. "I — I don't know what got into me. I just — just —"

"You can be a lot of things, but stupid is not one of them," Ron replied, moving to a sitting position, and then fixed his eyes on her.

"But I am," Hermione replied. "I — It's just that you — you are always talking about her —"

"I'm always talking about you, too."

"— and she's so pretty —"

"You're pretty."

"— and — and —" Hermione shook her head, frustrated, and stopped trying to explain. "I'm sorry, Ron. I know that you wouldn't — that you'd never —"

Ron just stared at her, a hard expression on his face, and then asked, "How long have you felt this way about Julie?"

Hermione shrugged and looked down. "Since the day I met her. Maybe longer."

"For fuck's sake, Hermione! That's more than four months! You should have told me!"

"I know. I know, okay? But I knew I was being silly and irrational, so I tried to ignore the feeling. I — I thought I had got over it — Well, no; I thought that now you wouldn't see her so frequently. But when you told me you wanted her here, that now you could be friends because she wasn't your trainee anymore, I — I just —" She shook her head again and looked down.

"I've never thought about her that way, Hermione. For heaven's sake, I just — she's like my sister, a person I am responsible for! Yeah, she's pretty, and intelligent, and skilled. So what? I have you, who are all those things and more. Why would I want another girl?" He asked, and sighed. "I've always thought you liked her. Merlin knows she adores you!"

Ron's words made Hermione feel even worse, if that was possible, and she blushed. "Sorry, Ron."

He sighed again. "I'm sorry, too," he said sadly. "I shouldn't have laughed. I mean, I know how that feels. Sometimes some bloke looks at you and I just want to hex his eyes off. But, with Julie ... I just never thought —" He fell silent, and then stood up and moved closer to her. Once he was at arm's reach, he put his hand under her chin and forced her to raise her head gently, making her look at him. Their eyes met. "There's no other girl for me, Hermione. There never has been, not really, and that's something you already know. I'm proud of Julie, yeah, but I'm much more proud of you."

Hermione felt her heart soar at his words, and new tears threatened to spill from her eyes.

"I love you, Ron. There's no other man for me, either. And I'm really sorry," she sobbed, and, unable to restrain herself anymore, she launched herself at him and hugged him tightly. "I know you'd never do anything. But she's great, and funnier than me, and I couldn't help but think that, if she started fancying you — something that could happen easily — you might realise she's better for you than me."

"Rubbish," he said, but she didn't let him argue with her.

"You're proud of her, as you must be. You did a great job as her trainer." She paused for a moment and breathed in hard. "I know she's important to you, Ron. And what is important to you is important to me. You were right. Now that she's an Auror and you can be officially friends, you should invite her over."

Ron stared at her.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I think it's the best way for me to get over it. And besides, my jealousy is _my_ problem, Ron, not yours. You shouldn't stop making friends just because of my insecurities, just like I shouldn't stop doing the same because of yours." She made a pause. "Really, you should invite her."

"And you should marry me."

"Maybe next wee— WHAT?" she exclaimed, completely shocked, when she made sense of his words in her head. She moved away from him and looked at him in the eye. "What did you say?"

"It's been years since the last time we've spent one night apart, and this night made me realise very clearly I don't want another," Ron explained, seriously. "Marry me, Hermione."

"Ron ..."

"You — you don't want to?"

"What? No! Of course — of course I want to. It's just that I didn't expect — especially not after — YES!" she shouted suddenly, realising she was saying meaningless things instead of conveying how happy she felt. "Yes, yes, yes!"

And in the next instant, he was kissing her with all his passion and love, and five minutes later, they were on the sofa, completely naked and oblivious to the rest of the world.

Hermione felt herself blush at the thought. They had got married five months later, in October, and by then, Julie was almost a family member. Of course, they had never told her about Hermione's jealousy (that would have been too embarrassing), or about the role she had unknowingly played in them getting married then and not later.

Julie used to have dinner with them once or twice a month, and Hermione had grown to love her as a sister-in-law of sorts. Oh, it was true that sometimes she was shocked by the girl's blunt comments, but she was really a strong woman and a skilled witch, and she could not help but admire and like her.

It would be terrible if something happened to her. And, if such a tragedy happened, Ron ... Ron would be devastated.

She rubbed her eyes once more and checked her watch. Her eyes became the size of saucers.

"Merlin's sake, I've been daydreaming for half an hour!"

She started back to work immediately, and the rest of the morning passed in almost a blur for her. She had the impression only five minutes had gone by when Ron and Harry were at her door to go and have lunch.

"We're going to the Leaky Cauldron," announced Harry while she got ready to go. "Do you mind? Ginny had to go to the _Prophet_ offices and we're meeting her there."

"It's all right," said Hermione.

They walked down the corridor towards the Auror Office and the lifts. Ron pushed the call button, but, before any lift appeared, a sudden, loud noise of an alarm filled the air.

Immediately, Harry and Ron drew their wands, and sprinted off towards the Auror Office, Hermione following them, her wand in her hand and her heart beating rapidly. This alarm meant that some Auror had been attacked and was calling for help.

Blevelty was already out of his office, and the only other two Aurors that hadn't left for lunch were reuniting around him, both looking wary and with their wands out.

"What is happening?" yelled Harry.

Every head turned in their direction.

"The team sent to the Choire Mhoire cliffs set off the alarm. They need immediate help."

"Let's go," said Harry at once. "Now!"

"Potter, you're not on the case!" said Blevelty in a warning tone.

But Harry didn't pay him any attention, and neither did Ron. Exclaiming, "There's not enough people here!" both of them ran towards the Apparition point. Hermione hesitated for a moment, but a second later she was running after them

"Potter! Weasley!" Blevelty shouted once more.

Hermione noticed that the other two Aurors were behind her, but her attention was completely focused on the two men running ahead of her. Harry opened the door that led to the room of the secure Apparition point and both he and Ron entered, Hermione right at their heels. The room would help them to Apparate to a safe point close to where the Aurors that had set off the alarm were.

"Hermione, you can't come!" said Ron, once they had stopped and he realised she had followed them.

Hermione frowned at him. "I'm going!"

"You're not an Auror!" argued Harry. "I need you to go to the Leaky Cauldron and tell Ginny that —"

"_Expecto Patronum!_" exclaimed Hermione. Immediately, the silver otter burst from Hermione's wand tip, soared through the air and vanished. "Done."

"But only Aurors can —" protested Ron.

"Take me with you!" Hermione shouted in a tone that didn't admit replies. She knew that she shouldn't go, but Harry, Ron and she had done everything together, always. They had jumped into unknown dangers almost without a second thought, and some things simply never changed. Of course, she was aware that Ron wanted to argue, but he knew that they were wasting precious moments, so, sighing in defeat, he took her hand and, a moment later, they Apparated to the top of an impressive cliff that dominated the landscape.

Hermione shivered. The wind was strong and cold and they hadn't brought cloaks. She felt the other two Aurors Apparate just behind her, and, a moment later, the five of them were looking around, searching for the cave or a clue of where Julie, Terry and the rest could be.

"THERE!" yelled one of the Aurors Hermione didn't know, pointing with his finger at a spot on the side of the farthest of the cliffs. A cloud of smoke could be seen rising up.

"Let's go there," said Harry decidedly.

Hermione shivered once more. She was freezing, and, looking at the dark and menacing sky and the patches of snow that could be seen around them, it could start snowing at any moment. Therefore, she used her wand to conjure thick travelling cloaks for her and the four men.

With a 'thanks,' all of them wrapped the cloaks tightly around their shaking bodies, and then, at the same time, they Apparated to the point where the smoke was coming from. A little entrance to a cave could be seen there.

The moment she materialised again, she slipped on the wet ground and almost fell, but Ron acted quickly and got a hold on her.

"Thanks," she told him, her heart beating faster than ever. They were all huddled in a very small space, at the entrance of the cave. Outside it, the cliff was almost vertical.

"_Lumos_," muttered Harry, and everyone else did the same. "Let's be careful."

They advanced, almost crouching down, along the cave. The smoke didn't let them view anything, so they cleared the air with their wands, and then directed the lights forwards, trying to see something.

Further into the cave, someone moaned.

"Julie," Ron said, and he launched forward, the others right behind him.

Twenty yards ahead, the cave turned to the right and then opened to a big chamber. That was where the Aurors were. With her heart beating even faster due to the fear she felt, Hermione saw Ron crouch down beside Julie, who was lying on the ground and coughing. She was covered in dust, and had a few scratches on her face, but, other than that, she looked fine. A bit shaken, but fine.

"Julie!" Ron yelled, concerned. "Julie, are you okay? What happened?"

"I'm fine," Julie said, and coughed again. "I'm f-fine. The others ..."

"Boot is okay, too," said one of the other Aurors, who had moved forward and was now kneeling besides an unconscious Terry Boot.

"Lewis ..." muttered Julie, trying to get up.

Hermione saw Harry and the other Auror looking around and she did the same.

Part of the ceiling had caved in. And by the way the stones were smoking, it was obvious to Hermione that it hadn't been a natural collapse. The cave had been cursed. In fact, maybe it still was, so she moved her wand around, casting protective charms all over them, hoping they would be enough to protect them.

"Crowdford's here," said the second of the unknown Aurors. "He is unconscious, too, but breathing."

"Lewis," repeated Julie. Ron helped her to get up, and she leaned on him.

"Where is he?" asked Harry, directing the light of his wand at them.

Julie shook her head, and Hermione saw her trembling.

"Julie," said Ron in a soft and soothing voice. "Where is Lewis?"

Julie raised a trembling hand and pointed at the mound of fallen stones and earth.

Immediately, but carefully, Harry and the other Aurors started to use their wands to lift the stones and search for the Auror named Lewis. Ron threw a glance at Hermione and tilted his head towards Julie. Hermione understood and walked towards them. Ron released Julie and Hermione helped her to get up.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked, moving towards the entrance of the cave and pulling the other girl with her, while Ron lifted the other two unconscious people with a spell and moved them out of the way, so they could continue searching for the missing Auror.

"Yeah, I'm fine," answered Julie, and looked at her. "He's dead," she added after a moment. Her eyes, focused on the work of the other Aurors, were wet; Hermione could see the tears glistening in the dim light.

"You don't know that," replied Hermione automatically, though, given the state of the cave, it was very likely that the girl was right.

"We spent a hour looking for the cave," explained Julie, moving a bit away from Hermione and standing up on her own. "It was magically protected, so Muggles couldn't see it, and neither did we. We located it just because we knew what we were searching for and detected traces of magic. We checked for any possible protection, for any person inside it, but we found nothing, so we entered. We reached this chamber. Lewis was ahead of us, and, suddenly, there was an explosion and the ceiling collapsed. I was the one closer to the entrance, so I just lost consciousness for a moment. And when I woke up I called for help. But I saw Lewis fall under the debris, so — so —" She stopped, unable to continue, and sniffed loudly before brushing her dirty face with her right sleeve. Then, clearly not knowing what to do, she stooped and tried to revive Terry. Hermione followed her example and did the same to Crowdford, whose name, she recalled, was Angus.

Both girls applied charms to the unconscious Aurors, and soon they were stirring and moaning.

"What —?" she heard Terry ask. "Ju — Julie? What happened?"

Julie opened her mouth to answer, but a yell from Harry drew everyone's attention. He had touched one of the stones and was shaking his hand, a pained look on his face. "They burn!"

"The stones were on fire," said Julie, almost sobbing. "Not on real fire, but white-hot. I remember the wave of heat, just before losing consciousness."

Hermione felt her despair grow. If the stones burned and Lewis was under them ..

"Does he — does he have a family?" asked Hermione, not really wanting to know the answer.

"He is married, yes," answered Harry, his voice weak. "And has a son. Three years old." Hermione felt her blood run cold.

"We checked for c-curses," Julie sobbed. "We did. We didn't detect a-anything except the charms that hid the cave. What kind of m-monster prepares a trap like this, to burn people alive?" she finished, almost yelling in rage and despair.

"The kind that would kick a pregnant woman in the stomach," commented Hermione, in a sad tone, embracing her.

At her words, Ron turned his head and looked at her, the little colour he had disappearing quickly.

"Fuck, Hermione!" he yelled. "You shouldn't be here! You shouldn't be here!"

The weight of the danger in which she had put their unborn child seemed to fall on her all of a sudden. The suddenness of the situation, the fear for Harry, Ron and Julie and the sensation of being back in the old times, when they did everything together, had made Hermione almost forget that she wasn't responsible just for her own life, but for another as well.

Julie looked at her. "Let's get you out of here," she said, regaining her Auror attitude. She grabbed Hermione's hand forcefully and began to drag her outside, but before they moved more than a few feet, they were stopped by Harry's sudden yell.

"He's here!"

At once, four wands were digging at the point Harry had indicated, trying to extract Lewis' body.

"Oh, for Merlin's first wand!" Hermione heard one of the Aurors exclaim.

"What?" asked Terry, trying to get up. "What's the matter?

But no one answered. Almost unconsciously, Julie released Hermione, and both of them ran towards the other group. When she saw the body, Hermione put a hand over her mouth to muffle a scream, horrified at the sight.

The body was practically unrecognisable. The robes were burned and seemed to have melted with the man's flesh. All his hair had disappeared and his face was horribly disfigured: his skin and flesh were charred and his features crushed by the stones that had fallen over him.

And the smell was a horrible, disgusting mix of burned hair, burned human fat and burned flesh ...

Hermione felt her insides turn, and more revolted than ever before, wheeled around, bent over and threw up.

* * *

_Hope you weren't eating when you read this._

_You can watch a photo of the Choire Moire cliffs in Google Maps if you want. But you're Muggle, so you won't be able to see the cave._

_I hope you liked the way in which Ron asked Hermione to marry him. I know it's not the most romantic way, but, if you think about it, the most important moments in their relationship were not very romantic (at least, not in a classical way), either (the Yule Ball invitation, the way Hermione asked Ron to Slughorn's party, the way he asked her to dance at the wedding, and the kiss), so I thought this would go the same way._

_Next chapter, on Tuesday._


	7. The Threat

_Nothing to say, except thanks to **Kathy** for her help as my beta and thank you to all my anonymous reviewers._

_Read and enjoy._

* * *

**PART I**

**TALES OF NEW MYSTERIES**

_**Chapter 7**_

**The Threat**

* * *

"Hermione, are you all right?" she heard Julie ask, concern evident in her voice. She tried to nod, but ended up throwing up once more. When she had finished, she sensed another presence on her left side and then felt Ron's hand on her back.

"I'm fine. I'm fine," Hermione said, standing up and brushing her mouth with the back of her hand. "It's just the — the smell."

"Take her out," Ron ordered Julie. Julie nodded, and both women walked towards the entrance. Before turning right in the narrow part of the cave, Hermione threw a backwards glance and saw Ron conjure a sheet and cover Lewis' body with it.

"This is horrible," Hermione commented, once they were on the border of the cliff once more and she was able to breathe in fresh air.

"I know," said Julie, trying to contain her emotions. "He was a good Auror. He didn't deserve such a horrible death." She looked at Hermione and scowled. "And you, what were you thinking, coming to a potential dangerous situation while being pregnant?"

Hermione looked down, at the lake at the bottom on the valley formed by the cliffs, a bit ashamed. "I didn't think. Just saw Ron and Harry running and followed them, like always."

"Hermione, those times are over now. You can't do that, and especially not in your condition."

"I know," said Hermione. "Old habit, I suppose. Even after so many years, it is hard for me to see them go on missions and not be at their side."

Julie didn't say anything. A moment later, they heard noises behind them and turned round. Harry, Ron and the other four Aurors were coming out. Terry was ahead of the group, visibly shaken and still unsteady. Behind him, one of the Aurors Hermione didn't know was helping Crowdford, who was in a worse state than Terry. Ron and Harry completed the group. Before them, Lewis Thydeen's body, wrapped in the sheet, was floating inside some sort of magical bubble.

"Let's go back to the Ministry," Harry said.

Ron moved to the entrance and grabbed Hermione by the waist. She looked up at his face and noticed that he seemed a bit lost. Then she looked at Lewis' wrapped body and realised, suddenly, that he was the first Auror that died since Tonks. She gulped, feeling a painful lump in her throat. The memory of her old friend brought tears to her eyes.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Ron turn on the spot and a moment later they Apparated into the Aurors' Apparition room at the Ministry. Other pops resounded around them, indicating the arrival of the rest.

Ron moved forward and opened the door. He had barely finished doing so when Hermione heard Blevelty's angry voice.

"Weasley! Potter! I told you you're not on this case! I'll deal with you —" Blevelty's words died in his mouth the moment he saw Lewis Thydeen's body float into the Auror Office. "Who?" he asked while he approached them, his face pale. "Who?"

"Lewis Thydeen," said Ron simply.

Blevelty stared at them, and Hermione saw his eyes move from one member of the team to the next, probably making sure that the rest were all right.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice weak. He looked as if he had aged a decade in a few seconds. "Was it a trap? Were you attacked?" He shook his head. "Never mind that now. I want you three checked by a healer. Then you'll give me your report. I have to — to inform Thydeen's wife," he declared dejectedly. "I'll deal with you two later," he added, in an angrier tone.

"I don't need a healer," said Julie. "I'll give you the report. Terry and Angus can go."

"I'm fine," said Terry sadly.

"Me too," muttered Angus.

"I want to be sure. After you give me the report, I want you to go to St Mungo," said Blevelty, and made them enter his office. He threw a last glance at Lewis' body and closed the door. It was only then that Hermione noticed that everyone there was watching them in silence.

"What happened, Potter?" asked another Auror, whose name, if Hermione was not mistaken, was Erica Woollenboot.

Harry shook his head. "Later," he told her, and he and Ron took Lewis' body to another room and left it there, returning to the main room a moment later.

"Potter?" Erica insisted, probably echoing the thoughts of everyone there. But he just stared at her and shook his head.

"Answer us, Potter," another Auror said, and Hermione saw Harry's face tense.

"Not now, Wilson," Harry replied. Ron scowled at the man. Sean Wilson was the person Harry and Ron liked the least in the whole Auror Office. He had been an Auror for quite a long time, and hadn't taken very well to the way Ron and Harry had gotten jobs in the Auror Office, were promoted and changed things. Ron hated him, and made no effort to conceal how he felt. Wilson had been one of the Aurors that had crashed Bill's wedding when Voldemort had taken over the Ministry.

"Thydeen was our workmate. We have the right —"

"I won't tell anything until Blevelty's got his report," Harry retorted, and gestured for Hermione and Ron to follow him to his cubicle, which they did. And once there, he cast a charm to prevent anyone else hearing them and sent a _Patronus_ to inform Ginny they were all right.

No one seemed to know what to say, so they remained in a tense silence for a few minutes, until Ron, his arms crossed in front of his chest, looked at her and frowned.

"What were you thinking, coming with us like that?" he spat, his frown turning into a deep scowl.

"Well, obviously I wasn't thinking," she snapped. She felt her cheeks grow hot at her words. After all, she wouldn't admit something like _that_ in a normal situation.

"Well, you should!" he shouted at her. "What if we had Apparated into an ambush, or among a group of enemies?"

Though she knew that Ron was right, she knew, too, that he was arguing with her just to vent his frustration about how the whole operation had turned out. And if Ron really wanted a fight, she certainly wasn't going to back off. After all, pregnant or not, she was a capable witch. Who had conjured the cloaks for them? Who had cast the protective charm to ensure the rest of the cave wouldn't collapse?

"Oh, you're one to talk!" she replied. "You weren't supposed to be there, either, were you? But you two jumped in head first, as always!"

"We're trained Aurors!"

"I am a fully trained witch who fought in a war!"

"Bu—"

"ENOUGH!" yelled Harry, interrupting Ron's retort. He was clearly annoyed. "I don't need this reminder of when we were at Hogwarts, thanks! It's been a bad day for everyone, so calm down, will you?"

Hermione exchanged a look with Ron, and both blushed, a bit ashamed. She exhaled a sigh. "Sorry, Harry."

"Yeah, mate, sorry," added Ron. "It's just that I've been on edge all day, and now, seeing Lewis like _that_ ..."

"It's okay," said Harry dismissively. "We have to think about what happened and what we're going to do from now on."

"Well, it is obvious that whoever organised all this knew we would go there and prepared that trap," said Ron.

"Maybe not," said Hermione. "Perhaps that trap was set just in case someone undesirable found the cave and tried to enter."

"In any case, we should —"

"Harry, Ron," said a voice from the entrance of the cubicle, interrupting Harry. The three of them looked towards the voice and found Julie there, a gloomy expression on her face. "Blevelty wants to see you both. Now."

Sighing and expecting to get a good scolding, Harry and Ron left the cubicle. Julie and Hermione followed them.

"Are you all right?" Hermione asked her.

"I need a good shower," answered Julie, who was still covered in dust.

Harry and Ron walked into Blevelty office and closed the door, leaving the girls alone.

"I ... I'm going to wash," declared Julie, who seemed a bit lost. "See you, Hermione."

"Goodbye, Julie."

Hermione followed her with her eyes, and then looked at her watch. She had to be in her office in ten minutes. Ron and Harry, however, finished quickly, and barely five minutes later were with her once more. Their expressions were as gloomy as Julie's, if not more. Hermione looked at them sympathetically.

"We're going home," said Ron simply.

"Home?"

"We have the afternoon off," explained Harry. "No work and a fine of two days' salary."

"Sorry," said Hermione.

The two men shrugged.

Blevelty came out of his office. He saw them standing there and fixed his eyes on Hermione.

"Ms Granger, what you did today was reckless and stupid. You're a Ministry official and a member of the Wizengamot. You can't go on Auror missions as if they were a trip to the countryside. Especially not in your condition."

"I know," said Hermione, completely embarrassed.

Blevelty sighed deeply. "I have to talk to everyone and then — well, I have to inform Thydeen's wife." He looked at Ron and Harry. "I want you two out of here in two minutes," he added, and went towards the cubicles.

"I have to go, too," said Hermione. "See you at home, okay?" she told Ron, and kissed him on the lips.

She left the Auror Office and walked towards her office. A lot of people were in the corridors, whispering quickly about what had happened. Hermione tried to avoid them. She didn't want to talk about it or remember the awful appearance of Thydeen's body.

She sat on her chair, but she didn't feel like working. Seeing another person die, after so long ... She thought about Lewis Thydeen's wife, and about that son that probably wouldn't remember his father. That made her think of herself, of what she would feel if Ron died on a mission, and she shuddered, terrified by the simple thought.

"That won't happen," she told herself. "That won't happen."

The sudden opening of the door broke her train of thought. She looked up and saw Mrs Addler walking towards her, her face stern. She was carrying a folder.

"Hermione," she said, once she was in front of her desk, "I have to say that I am sincerely disappointed. As a Ministry official, you know what our procedures are. You can't accompany a team of Aurors to a mission except when required and authorised. Especially, if the Aurors you're accompanying are not allowed to go, either." Mrs Addler looked into Hermione's eyes, and for a few moments they just stared at each other, without saying anything. Hermione tried with all her might not to tear her gaze from the older woman's eyes and not to blush. "You're a hero, but the times when you three had to hide and do things outside the law are over. We have a new Ministry now, one you helped to build. Respect it."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said. "I don't know what I was thinking. Suddenly, everything was like old times and —" she fell silent, not knowing what else to say.

"It's okay, no harm done," said Mrs Addler, her tone a bit warmer. She put the folder she was carrying on Hermione's desk. "But, as sort of a punishment, I want you to deal with the paperwork about that poor dead Auror."

Hermione felt her insides turn at the idea, but nodded. "All right."

"Good afternoon then," Mrs Addler said, and left.

Reluctantly, but knowing it had to be done, Hermione opened the folder and put herself to work.

— o —

"The funeral is tomorrow," Ron told her when she arrived home and joined Harry, Ron and Ginny in the living room. Hermione nodded.

"I know. I had to arrange all the paperwork. My punishment for going with you," she added as an explanation. She looked at Ginny. "Hi, Ginny," she said, and the younger girl smiled at her. "Where's James?"

"With Mum and Dad," said Ginny, and then added, "Harry and Ron decided to have dinner here, the four of us, so I came to make something, as they're completely useless. Just pasta, nothing fancy."

"It's okay," said Hermione. "I'm not very hungry, after all."

"But you have to feed yourself," replied Ginny severely, "and you've already missed lunch. So, either you eat well, or I'll take you to The Burrow and you'll have to deal with Mum."

Hermione had opened her mouth to protest, but at the mention of her mother-in-law, she closed it again. There was no point in arguing with Mrs Weasley about food, especially if you were pregnant. Hermione had seen it with Fleur and Ginny.

Hermione sat down on the sofa beside Ron, who put one hand on her left thigh.

"Did you talk to Julie, Terry or Angus Crowdford?" asked Hermione, looking at Harry and Ron.

"Yes, we did," nodded Harry.

"Did they discover something before the cave collapsed?"

"Nothing," responded Ron. "They had just entered when it happened."

"And now?"

"They'll interrogate those four prisoners again," answered Harry, "though I don't think they know much more."

Ginny got up and went to the kitchen. They heard her rummage through the pots and a moment later she announced, "Dinner's ready!"

They set up the table and sat at it. Despite Hermione previous asseveration that she wasn't hungry, she found out, after engulfing the first mouthful, that it wasn't true.

No one seemed to want to speak about the case anymore, so Hermione started to ask Ginny questions about her job at the _Daily Prophet_, where she was the star Quidditch reporter. It had been difficult for her to quit playing professional Quidditch with the Holyhead Harpies, a few months after Ron and Hermione's wedding, to have and raise her and Harry's child. She was, however, convinced that it was the best decision. And though she still missed playing Quidditch professionally, she had got over it pretty quickly, because her new job as reporter allowed her to go to all the matches she and Harry wanted, something they enjoyed immensely.

As the dinner progressed, they even got to laugh a bit; something, Hermione thought, they really needed. Once it was over, Harry and Ginny didn't stay for long, because they had to go and fetch James before Mr and Mrs Weasley went to bed.

Ron took care of the dishes with a few well-practised spells, and then he and Hermione headed for their bedroom. They took off their clothes in a comfortable and yet a bit tense silence, and then, Ron naked and Hermione in her nightdress, got in the bed.

"I'm sorry for this morning," said Ron in a weak voice. "I just felt frustrated and angry and —"

"No, you were right," said Hermione, embracing him and laying her head on his chest. "I shouldn't have gone. It was stupid and reckless."

Ron caressed her soft curls softly. "It was my fault, too. I should have insisted that you stayed. But we were in a hurry and just —" He stopped talking and simply embraced her, pressing her against his chest, and then gave her a kiss on the top of her head. "I can't lose you, Hermione. You've been part of my life since we were eleven years old. I don't know how to live without you. _I don't want to know how to live without you_."

"I feel the same, Ron." Hermione looked up at him, stretched her neck and gave him a sweet but passionate kiss. Ron put his hands on Hermione's waist, and she, feeling needier and needier, raised her body and got almost on top of him, intensifying the kiss.

She stopped suddenly, and pulled away a few inches. She looked at him in the eye and then bit her bottom lip softly. At the same time, her right hand crept down his chest then belly, and finally stopped on his cock, which was already half-erect. Hermione massaged it sensually, and felt it grow under her hand, which helped to increase her own excitement.

"Fuck, Hermione. Keep doing that."

Hermione grabbed it in her small hand, and began jacking him off with slow but hard strokes. Beneath her, Ron closed his eyes and moaned in pleasure, his hands sliding up and down her sides.

"Do you like it, Ron? This?" she asked huskily, and moved her hand up and down more quickly for a few strokes.

"FUCK, Hermione, yes!" yelled Ron, before moving his hands to her chest and groping her breasts rather roughly. Hermione moaned, and Ron opened his eyes and looked at her, his expression full of lust. "I wanna see your body. Wanna see it NOW!"

Letting out a groan, she released his stiff cock, sat up on her knees and took her nightdress off, leaving her body covered just by tiny, white knickers that hugged her hips and arse deliciously. Ron stared at her body in awe.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful, so hot."

"No, I'm not," she replied sheepishly.

"How many times do we have to have this conversation?" Ron asked. "If I tell you you are hot, then you are," he stated and his hands flew towards her tits, which he started to knead passionately. "Now come here."

Hermione straddled him, and Ron moved his hands to her hips, forcing her to sit on his erect cock, eliciting a moan from both of them. Hermione lowered her torso, so her tits were just within Ron's mouth reach. He didn't waste a single second and took one of her nipples in his mouth, causing Hermione to moan and to slide forward and backwards on him.

Hermione knew that the friction between his erect cock and her knicker-clad mound was maddening, but surely he wanted more. He needed to feel her wetness against him, feel himself slide between her slick folds before plunging inside her until they both reached the ultimate bliss. And, after a few more minutes of grinding, kissing and moaning, Ron put his hands under the waistband of her knickers and slid them down her legs, baring her completely to his hungry gaze.

Hermione helped him, threw her knickers away and straddled him again, torturing him, and herself, with slow, sensual movements, their sexes sliding one against the other. And every time the tip of his shaft grazed her swollen clitoris, she let out a moan of pleasure. She could feel the tension grow inside her, her entire body getting on fire. One of his hands went to her arse, making her grind more forcefully against him; the other found her tits again, kneading them the way they both liked.

Hermione knew that, if they kept going like this, she was going to come, and, pleasurable as it would be, she wanted to reach climax with him inside her. Therefore she raised her hips and placed her entrance just above Ron's cock, intending to get it inside her. But before anything more than the tip went through her folds, Ron put his hands on her hips and raised his thighs so she couldn't go down.

"Ron, what —?"

"Do you want it, Hermione?"

Hermione let out a groan of frustration and tried to lower herself with all her strength, but it was useless. She was so close ...

"Do you want my cock, Hermione?"

"Ron, _please_ ..."

Ron raised his hips a bit, so his cock went a bit more inside her, causing her a great pleasure, but, a moment later, he retreated and went back to his previous position, making her feel hotter and more frustrated.

"Do you want it inside you?"

"Yes, yes, Ron! I want it! Put it inside me NOW!" she demanded.

Ron didn't need more encouragement. A mere moment later, he thrust upwards with all his might and buried himself completely in her wet cunt.

"Oh, YESSSSS!" she moaned, throwing her head backwards and giving him an excellent view of her breasts.

"Oh, fuck, Hermione!"

Hermione started to ride him like a madwoman, her desire so heightened she thought she would explode if she didn't find relief soon. Under her, Ron countered her movements with his own, his hands roaming over all her body. Then, he placed his right one just between them, putting two fingers next to the base of his cock, so they would touch her clit every time she moved down. The friction was now almost too much, and Hermione began to moan louder and louder. She arched her back and put her hands behind her, on his thighs, to hold herself, and continued moving her hips more and more quickly, feeling her desired release nearing.

"Oh, Ron, Ron! God, I'm almost there, I'm — OH, FOR FUCK'S SAKE, RON!"

Her body started to shake above him, and she lowered her torso so she was almost lying on his chest, while he continued to thrust into her, prolonging her orgasm and making her feel dizzy.

"Merlin, Ron, that was ... amazing!" she said, panting heavily.

"I agree completely," Ron said. But obviously, he wasn't finished, so, without taking his cock from her cunt, he pushed her backwards, to the bottom on the bed, manoeuvred to get over her and began to thrust into her like a man possessed, trying to get his own release.

"Fuck, fuck, Hermione, you're so — God, this is fantastic!"

"Yes, Ron, fuck me, fuck me!" she shouted, knowing how her dirty language turned him on even more. She could feel Ron's cock entering and exiting her body at top speed, causing an overload of sensations on her body, until, finally, he gave a deep, powerful thrust, buried himself completely inside her and came.

"OH, fuck, Hermione, I'm cumming!"

Hermione embraced him, pulled his body against hers, used her legs to press his hips against her own and tightened the muscles of her cunt to milk him completely.

She felt him writhe and tremble above her, his hips moving on their own accord, while he moaned against her neck

"Oh, Hermione ... God, I don't know what you do to me, but you drive me mad. Merlin, I love you ..."

She smiled, satisfied and happy, glad that, after having seen death once more, she could experience life with the person she loved. She kissed him on his temple.

"I love you too, Ron. So much."

They stayed in that position for a few moments, and then, forcing their spent bodies to function again, moved and lay down in their usual sleeping position, with their heads on the pillow. Ron pulled the blankets over them and Hermione embraced him and put her head on his shoulder, sighing contentedly.

"Goodnight, Hermione," he whispered.

"Goodnight, Ron," she whispered back, letting sleep slowly overcome her relaxed and tired body.

BOOM!

The entire house seemed to shake with the force of what seemed like an explosion. Hermione jumped on the bed, startled and frightened, any trace of sleep had vanished completely. Ron had done the same, and was already out of the bed, putting his trousers on.

"Stay here!" he ordered her before getting his wand and exiting the room.

Hermione put her nightdress back on, took her wand, too, and walked out of the room warily. She was not going to put herself in danger, not this time, but she needed to know what was happening.

When she reached the stairs, Ron was nowhere to be seen. He hadn't bothered to turn on the lights, and Hermione concluded he was at the door or near it. The noise had come, after all, from the front side of the house. After a moment of hesitation, she started to climb down the stairs, all her senses on alert for the slightest sign of danger.

When she was in the living room, dimly lit by the weak light entering through the windows, Hermione could appreciate Ron's silhouette by the front door. He seemed to be looking through the peephole. Hermione looked around and noticed that everything seemed to be all right; nothing was damaged or broken. She couldn't hear anything, either. One could believe that they had imagined the loud noise and the house shaking.

Hermione moved towards Ron slowly, her wand tightly clutched in her hand.

"I told you to stay in the bedroom," he told her in a barely audible voice. His tone wasn't scolding, though, but of resignation, as if he hadn't really expected her to follow his instructions.

Hermione stopped, partially hiding herself behind the corner formed by the wall of the living room and the wall of the entrance hall. Ron moved, and cautiously, opened the door, protecting himself behind it, his wand ready to attack anyone lurking in the shadows outside.

Hermione looked past Ron, to the darkness beyond the doorframe. Only a lonely streetlamp lit the road in front of their house. The closest house was two hundred yards down the road, passing a turn. Ron and Hermione's house was partially hidden by a lot of trees. They had built it a bit away from the others so they could do magic without having to worry about the Muggles living in the village.

Hermione wondered whether some of their neighbours had heard the loud explosion-like noise. If they had, surely the Muggle police should be on their way here.

Ron's sudden movement broke her train of thought and made her focus completely on what was happening. She saw him open the door completely and point his wand at something outside.

"Don't move!" he warned whoever was there.

Hermione moved a bit, so she could see past Ron's body. After a few seconds, her eyes got accustomed to the lack of light and she could distinguish the figure standing twenty yards away from Ron, on the other side of the road, exactly on the border of the area lit by the streetlamp. He or she was wearing black, or at least a very dark cloak, so it was impossible to know who they were.

Anyway, the stranger didn't seem to be worried by Ron's wand and menacing pose, and simply stood there, looking at him, his arms hanging at their sides. Ron, his wand still fixed on his target, gave a step forwards.

At once, the cloaked stranger moved incredibly quickly.

Hermione shouted "Ron!" at the same time Ron shot a Stunning Spell towards the stranger. However, it missed its target, because the stranger had been too quick. And when the red beam of light flew past him, he raised a wand — or what Hermione concluded was a wand — and threw something that looked like a ball of flames towards Ron.

Ron, acting quickly, raised his wand to cast a Shield Charm, but it wasn't needed. The ball of flames reached the area surrounded by the protective charms and it exploded, spreading fire in a circle and causing a loud, exploding noise to resound. The house shook again, and Hermione concluded that this was, probably, what had caused the noise that had startled them.

When the fire vanished, Ron aimed his wand at the stranger once more, but, before he could do anything, he simply vanished.

"Shit!" yelled Ron, clearly angry.

Hermione ran towards him, her wand ready, and both of them looked around for a sign of the stranger.

"Ron, look." Hermione pointed at something small, white and rectangular lying on the ground, close to the road.

"Stay there and look out for any sign of danger, okay?" he told her, and she nodded.

Ron made his way towards the small object slowly. He hesitated for a moment when he reached the limit of the protected area, and then moved quickly and crouched down on the ground.

"What the hell —?"

"What is it?" asked Hermione, anxious, and shivered. Though she hadn't noticed before, it was very cold outside. They were at the end of November, after all, and she was only wearing a thin nightdress.

"It's a letter."

"A letter?"

Ron made a few movements with his wand over it, to check for some kind of trap. The result was negative, Hermione concluded, because a moment later he made it float in the air, stood up and looked at her.

"A letter addressed to you."

"To me?" Hermione was completely dumbfounded. "Do you think that person, whoever they were, left it for me?"

"Who else could have done it?" said Ron, walking back into the house. He looked around once more and then closed the door. Hermione turned on the lights and lit the fireplace. The two sat down on the sofa closest to the warming fire and Ron put the letter on the small table.

Hermione watched it attentively, and saw that it was addressed to 'Mrs Hermione Jean Granger.' The name was written in a neat but very old=fashioned writing.

"Should I open it?" asked Hermione in a weak voice.

"I don't know. As far as I checked, there are no curses on it, but the team that went to that cave had also checked for curses and you know how that ended."

"You think this is related to that case, then?" she asked. But it was a stupid question. She was _sure_ it was.

"Of course it is," replied Ron.

They stared at the letter for a while, and then Hermione, boldly, took it in her hands before Ron could stop her.

"ARE YOU MAD?" he yelled.

"We need to know what it says," Hermione defended herself.

"Don't you remember all those letters you received in fourth year, Hermione?" Ron asked. "And those were sent by stupid people! This one could have been delivered by someone who tried to kill you once and who killed an Auror today!"

Hermione sighed and moved her wand over the envelope several times, muttering incantations.

"It's safe," she said after a while. "But, for extra security ..." she made the letter float before them, and, with another flick of her wand, the envelope opened and the parchment inside came out. It was a very short letter.

_You escaped once, but I don't mind. My interest in you and in you unborn child has only grown._

_I'm looking forward to a new encounter between us._

_Tell Ronald he should keep an eye on those he loves, for he's one step away from losing everything he cares for._

* * *

_Hope you liked it. Next chapter ... this weekend, but I'm not sure which day, so stay tuned._

_See you._


	8. Remember Those Old Times of Fear

_I've seen the number of reviews had decreased a bit these last chapter. Is everyone on holiday or simply don't like the story enough to review?_

_Anyway, and now I mention holidays, I'll start mine on the 3__rd__ or August, until the 26__th__. But don't worry! Those of you who read TFLDotW know I don't leave you hanging. I'll post a bit more slowly, but you can still count on a chapter every week (maybe more, it depends)._

_Though I don't mention it in every chapter, thanks to __**Kathy**__ for her wonderful help as my beta._

* * *

**PART I**

**TALES OF NEW MYSTERIES**

_**Chapter 8**_

**Remember Those Old Times of Fear**

* * *

Hermione let her wand fall to the floor, and, instinctively, wrapped her arms around her belly. Despite being near the fireplace, a cold sensation was creeping up her body.

"Son of a bitch!" shouted Ron, clenching his fists and teeth. His body was radiating anger, and his face was red with fury.

Hermione looked at the parchment again, which now lay on the table, and her eyes roamed over those neat lines once more.

Her child. That monster was interested in her child.

"This is it," said Ron suddenly, furious but determined. "We're moving to The Burrow."

"What?" Hermione asked, shocked. "Why?"

"This place isn't safe. There's just you and me here."

"But the protective enchantments worked," argued Hermione. "They resisted those attacks."

"Are you sure?" Ron asked her, a shrewd look on his face. "Did they really want to attack and harm us? I don't think so. They left this letter, after all. Maybe they just wanted to get our attention." He looked at her with a determined expression. "I won't take any risk, Hermione. We're going there, and, if necessary, I'll make the entire family move back there to make sure all of you are safe."

Hermione didn't say anything. She looked at the letter again, scanning over the lines. There was something there, but she couldn't grasp it.

"It's for the best, Hermione," Ron added, in a much calmer tone. "There's too much at stake."

Hermione's eyes travelled from the parchment to Ron's face. "Okay, Ron."

"Let's get ready," he said serenely, standing up and walking towards the stairs. After the initial shock, Ron was now trying to conceal how worried and furious he was, but Hermione could see it perfectly. She stayed there, sitting, for a few moments, watching her husband walk, feeling an immense sadness spread inside her. Just ten minutes ago they had been making passionate love, feeling happy and relaxed despite what had happened during the day. And now...

Now everything had gone to hell again.

She threw a last glance at the letter, stood up and went to the bedroom.

Ron was already dressed when she crossed the doorframe. She took off her nightdress, took clean underwear from one of her drawers and put some jeans, a shirt and a jacket on. Then she added some new clothes to the bag in which Ron was packing his own things.

"I'll get our things from the bathroom," Ron told her. Hermione nodded sadly and went to the wardrobe to get a few more things, but turned round to face Ron when she felt that, instead of leaving, he was at the doorframe, staring at her. "I'm sorry, Hermione."

"Why?" she asked, surprised. "None of this is your fault, Ron."

"You look very sad."

"It's the second time in three days we have had to leave our house," Hermione explained. "I hate that. We should be safe here, at home. This — this shouldn't be happening. It's like — like going back to the old times, during the war."

"I know," Ron said. He held her gaze for a moment and then moved forward and enveloped her in a tight embrace. "We'll solve this," he whispered, kissing the top of her head. "We will, I promise you. No one will harm our child, Hermione. No one."

Hermione looked up at him, and he lowered his head to kiss her softly on her lips. The kiss went on for a few moments, then they moved away and Ron went to the bathroom.

"If we need anything else, I can come back for it," he said when he came back, with a little bag full of their toiletries. He put it inside the larger bag and then closed it.

"Do you think your parents will still be up?" asked Hermione.

"I don't know. Probably not."

Ron took the bag and grabbed Hermione's hand. A moment later, they appeared outside the fence surrounding The Burrow. Both of them paused for a moment, staring at the beloved building, and Hermione noticed that, surprisingly, light could be seen through the windows of the living room.

They both made their way to the front door and Ron knocked. After a moment, they heard the sound of steps on the wooden floor getting closer to the door.

"Who is it?" asked Mr Weasley's voice from the other side of the door.

"Dad, it's us," answered Ron.

The door opened immediately to reveal a dumbfounded Mr Weasley. "Ron? Hermione? What are you doing here?" He took in their appearance and his eyes lingered on the bag Ron was carrying for a moment before looking back at their faces. "What has happened? Are you all right?"

"We're fine," said Ron, and gestured for Hermione to go in. Mr Weasley moved to one side to let them in, and then closed the door, "but someone was at our house tonight, tried to attack us and left a threat in a letter. I thought it would be better if we came here."

"You were attacked?" Mr Weasley said, his eyes the size of saucers, looking at them both in turn. "But are you —?"

"Nothing happened, Arthur," said Hermione in a calming voice. "The protective charms worked. We're fine."

"Come and sit down," said Mr Weasley, who had turned paler, and motioned for them to follow him to the sofa. "Do you want something? Tea, maybe?"

"That would be wonderful," nodded Hermione while she sat down.

"Is Mum asleep?" asked Ron, following his father to the kitchen.

"Probably," Hermione heard him answer. "She went up twenty minutes ago or so, a bit after Harry and Ginny came to fetch James. I was just finishing some reading." There was a moment of silence, and then Hermione heard him ask, "What happened? Does it have something to do with that Auror that was killed today?"

Hermione leaned against the back of the sofa, and focused her gaze on the dancing flames in the fireplace. In the kitchen, Ron was telling his father everything. After a while, Ron's voice got closer and she turned her head towards the door and saw that Arthur was carrying a dish with three steaming mugs, which he put on the little table.

"Thanks, Arthur," said Hermione with a little smile.

Mr Weasley, his face serious and full of worry, sat down on his chair. Ron did the same next to Hermione.

"A threat," Mr Weasley said, staring at them. "But — why?"

"We have no idea," said Hermione. "I don't know what this ... person, may want from our daughter. It's just a baby, isn't it?"

"Harry was just a baby, too," interjected Ron, who now seemed very thoughtful.

Both his father's and Hermione's gazes focused on him.

"Do you think there may be a prophecy concerning our daughter?" asked Hermione with a trace of incredulity.

Ron shrugged. "There could be, couldn't there? And maybe that's why that mysterious man saved you. He, whoever he is, didn't do anything to help Thydeen."

Hermione thought about it for a moment. Could that be possible? She looked at Mr Weasley. "If there were a prophecy, would it be in the Department of Mysteries, in the Hall of Prophecy?"

Mr Weasley thought about it for a moment. "Only if the person who heard it registered it. Not everyone does. And even if the person who heard it bothered to register it, they would need to be British; otherwise, you won't find it here, because other Ministries have a registry of prophecies, too. But I suppose you could go and check." He took his mug and drank some of his tea. "Anyway, I'm glad you came here. There's plenty of room and we always welcome more people. You and that baby won't be unprotected, Hermione," he stated. "They'll have to kill us all to harm her — or you."

Hermione felt a warm sensation fill her body at her father-in-law's words. It was wonderful to be part of such a marvellous and caring family.

They finished their drinks in silence. Mr Weasley sent the dish to the kitchen with a flick of his wand and then stood up.

"I think we should go to bed now." He looked at Ron. "You can use your old room. If you need something, I could wake up your mother; she wouldn't mind —"

"No, no!" protested Hermione, shaking her head. "We'll manage. Let her sleep."

Mr Weasley nodded and then embraced the both of them. "I'm so glad you're both all right. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Dad."

"Goodnight, Arthur. And thanks again. We're so sorry for disturbing you —"

Mr Weasley looked at her with a serious expression. "The Burrow will always be home to all of you," he declared, and then turned round and began to climb up the stairs, Ron and Hermione right behind him.

"We'll be a bit cramped," commented Ron once they reached his room. "I could enlarge the bed, I suppose."

"No," said Hermione. "I like it this way, exactly as I remember," she added, looking around at the old familiar room, still covered in Ron's old posters of the Chudley Cannons.

Ron closed the door and embraced her from behind, resting his chin on her right shoulder. "So you remember?" he asked her into her ear in a low voice.

"How could I not?" she replied. "Our third time was here."

"Yes," nodded Ron, and then released her. She felt somewhat cold at his absence, and watched him move towards the window.

"I never thought we would sleep here again," he commented, his back to her. "Especially not under these circumstances."

"I know," Hermione whispered. She undressed quickly and got under the covers. "Come to bed, Ron."

Ron turned round, and, after staring at her for a few moments, took off his clothes, too, and joined her in the bed. They tightly embraced, because there wasn't much room for two people. They shared a long, sweet kiss, and then fell asleep.

— — o — —

"Oh, Hermione, Ron!" Mrs Weasley yelled, running to embrace her the moment they set foot in the kitchen. "Arthur told me everything. Why didn't you wake me up last night? Surely you were very uncomfortable in that bed; it's too small!"

"Don't worry, Molly," said Hermione when the older woman released her. "It was all right."

"Sit down; breakfast is ready," she said, returning to the pans after hugging Ron too. "I want you both to explain everything to me."

"Molly, I've already told you —" Mr Weasley began to say, but fell silent with a glare from his wife. Mrs Weasley began to put food on Ron and Hermione's plates, which Ron started to devour almost at once.

Hermione explained everything to her, finishing with Ron's decision to move to The Burrow. Mrs Weasley, though clearly horrified, smiled at her son.

"It was the best decision," she said, putting the frying pan down (Hermione didn't fail to notice how her hand was shaking), and scowled. "Threatening a pregnant woman and her child! What kind of sick monster does that?" she asked, furious. "But don't worry, dear," she added, looking at Hermione. "You'll be safe here. No one will put a hand on you."

Hermione smiled, glad to have someone like Mrs Weasley as a mother-in-law. More than that, actually, Molly had always been more like a second mother to her than a simple in-law. And watching the way she was talking, she knew that there was no way anyone could harm her while she was in their way. She was, after all, the woman that had defeated Bellatrix Lestrange.

The rest of the breakfast went by with meaningless talk. At some point, Hermione had to plead for Mrs Weasley not to put more food on her plate, because if she ate another bite she surely was not going to be able to fit in her chair at work. Ron, however, didn't seem to have any problem and ate everything his mother gave him, chewing contentedly.

"We 'ab ter get going," he said after a few minutes, swallowing audibly.

"_Ron_ _!_" Hermione and Mrs Weasley scolded him.

"What?" said Ron, frowning at them. "We have to. Harry's probably there already and I want to talk to him before going to Blevelty to tell him everything." He looked at his mother. "Most surely some Aurors will come to enforce the protections around The Burrow," he informed her. "I don't want to take any risk. But either Harry, Julie or I will come with them."

"Okay," nodded Mrs Weasley.

"Let's go, then," said Mr Weasley, standing up. Ron and Hermione followed him to the fireplace. Hermione looked at the Weasley clock and saw that Harry's hand was pointing at 'at work.'

"Yeah, Harry's there already," she told Ron.

Waving goodbye to Mrs Weasley, who was watching them with a concerned expression on her face, the three of them walked into the fireplace and travelled to the Atrium. Once there, they went into a lift and up to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, where they parted ways. Mr Weasley headed for his office and Ron and Hermione walked towards Harry's cubicle.

Harry was sitting in his chair. He had several parchments on his table, but was flicking through the pages of the _Daily_ _Prophet._

"Good morning," Ron and Hermione said at the same time, startling him.

"Hey, you two. Good morning." He looked at Hermione, a bit puzzled. "Hermione? What are you doing here?"

As an answer, Ron threw the letter at him. Harry caught it with his hands, frowning, and, throwing a quizzical glance at his best friends, started to read it. As he did, Hermione watched him and could see his expression change from one of puzzlement into one of pure anger.

"What's this?"

"Someone left it in front of our house, a while after you and Ginny left. Well, they tried to demolish the house first, but, luckily, our protective charms work perfectly."

"WHAT?" Harry yelled.

Ron and Hermione explained everything to him, including Ron's theory about a prophecy. Hermione could tell that Harry didn't like the idea at all.

"Another damn prophecy? I really, _really_ hope you're wrong," he commented. "But we'll have to check that."

"I want to talk to Blevelty first," said Ron. "I want to be on the case. And I want The Burrow well-protected."

Harry nodded, a bit absentmindedly. His eyes were fixed on some point on the floor. Hermione looked at him, frowning, and said, "Harry?"

"Do you think we're all in danger?" he said, not raising his head.

"What?"

"The letter says that Ron is about to lose everything he cares for."

"I don't know," Ron answered.

"Ginny spends a lot of time in the house, alone with James," added Harry, worried, and then looked up at them. "Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea if we moved back to The Burrow as well. Do you think your parents would mind?" he asked Ron.

"Mum will worry, of course, but she'll be delighted. You know she hates that the house is so silent now."

"And what about your parents?" Harry asked Hermione. "What if these people, whoever they are, cannot reach you, and try to get you through them?"

"Oh, Merlin!" exclaimed Hermione, feeling a terrible dread fill her. "I hadn't thought — Oh, God!"

Ron hugged her in a comforting way. "Don't worry, love. We'll talk to Blevelty right now and then we'll send some Aurors to protect them. We can even move them to The Burrow if necessary, okay?"

Hermione nodded.

"That'll be too much for The Burrow, I think," interjected Harry. "But we can use Grimmauld Place."

"We'll see," said Ron. "Now let's get going."

The three of them exited Harry's cubicle and headed for Blevelty's office. However, instead of walking straight towards there, Ron made a little detour and stopped at Julie's cubicle.

"Julie."

The girl turned round and stared at them, a bit surprised. She didn't look as if she had had a good night of sleep.

"Hey, Ron. Harry, Hermione. What's the matter?"

"I want you and another Auror — pick whomever you want — to go to the Granger's dental clinic and put some protective enchantments there." He went into the cubicle, grabbed some piece of parchment and started to write on it. "This is the address."

"But —" Julie said, glancing at Hermione before focusing her attention back on Ron. "What happened? You know we can't put charms on Muggle places without a reason or authorisation."

"I gave you the order, and Hermione will sign any document you need later."

"Okay, but why —?"

"Questions later, Julie. Please, do it."

Julie looked at their faces, taking in their worried expressions, and then nodded. "All right. I'll inform you when I'm back."

"Thank you," said Hermione and Ron at the same time.

Julie left towards another cubicle, and Harry, Ron and Hermione went to Blevelty's office. Harry knocked on the door, and when they were invited to enter, they stepped in.

"Good morning, sir," said Harry seriously. The greeting was echoed by Ron and Hermione.

"Good morning," said Blevelty, blinking in surprise at them. "What's the matter?"

Closing the door behind him, Ron sat down in one of the chairs, and Harry and Hermione did the same at both his sides.

"The matter, sir, is that Hermione and I sort of — had a visit last night."

"A visit? What kind of visit?"

Ron told Blevelty everything, showing him the letter. When he finished his tale, Blevelty was pale, his eyes fixed on the piece of parchment.

"I've already sent Julie Simmells to put some protection around Hermione's parents' workplace," explained Ron. "Hermione will sign the documents."

"Yeah ... yeah, well done," muttered Blevelty, who still seemed to be taking in the attack at the house and the contents of the letter. "Good idea."

"We want to be on the case, sir," Harry added, his voice full of determination.

"We've already had this talk," Blevelty replied, looking at Harry with an authoritarian gaze.

"These ... _people_," muttered Ron between clenched teeth, "threatened my wife, my unborn daughter and my family. I have the right to protect them."

"You do," admitted Blevelty. "I'll assign you two to the protection of Ms Granger, her parents and the rest of your family. You can get any other Auror you need. But the investigation will be lead by Boot and Simmells."

"This is ridiculous!" Ron yelled, furious. "Someone out there is after my wife and you expect me to stand aside and watch?"

"_Ron_," muttered Hermione, trying to calm him.

"Weasley, I'm still your boss," warned Blevelty, mustering all his authority. "I understand you're under a lot of stress, and that's precisely why you can't lead this case. But I don't expect you to stand aside. As I told you, you will be in charge of the protection of your families."

"That's not enough," protested Ron.

"It'll have to be," Blevelty replied. "And this is my last word. Organise what you need and then inform me. You're dismissed."

"Okay, sir," said Harry politely, and stood up. Ron and Hermione did the same and the three of them exited the office.

Once outside, Ron rounded on Harry. "'_Okay, sir_'? Are you mad?"

"I'm not," said Harry, and grabbed Ron and Hermione's robes to move them further from Blevelty's office. "Arguing with Blevelty is pointless. I think we should talk to Kingsley."

Hermione gaped at him, shocked. Ron, on the other hand, looked at Harry with a grin. "Yes! That's a good idea, mate! I _almost_ lost faith in you in there."

"You are planning on undermining your boss' authority by appealing to the Minister?" Hermione asked, her voice saying clearly she disapproved of the idea.

"Not exactly," said Harry. "We'll just inform him. But that's not the main thing I want to do. What I suggest is that we do as we did in the past, and start working ... in secret," Harry explained, lowering his voice.

"In secret?" Hermione repeated. "Do you mean like with Dumbledore's Army?"

"More or less," nodded Harry.

"Okay," accepted Hermione.

"Fine with me," nodded Ron.

"Perfect," said Harry. He looked at Hermione. "Go to your office, then, and prepare those documents to authorise the protection of your parents' clinic. Ron and I will strengthen The Burrow's protection, check on your parents and talk to other people. We can have a meeting one of these nights, at my house."

"That's the best idea I've heard today," said Ron. He turned towards Hermione and kissed her. "See you at lunch." His face turned more serious. "Afterwards we have to go to Thydeen's funeral —"

"I'll go, too," declared Hermione.

"You will?" Ron asked, a bit surprised, and Hermione nodded. "Okay, then. We'll fetch you at your office. See you, Hermione."

Harry and Ron began to walk towards the Apparition room, and Hermione went to her office.

She had a good amount of work to do, besides filling the document that authorised the Aurors to put protective enchantments on Muggle buildings, but she was still too nervous about her parents to be able to work with her usual standard of efficiency. But an hour later, Ron's Patronus appeared before her and told her everything was okay. She sighed, feeling the tension leave her body, and, relieved, was able to work like always until Ron and Harry fetched her for lunch.

The three of them had a quick meal at the Ministry's canteen. The men explained to her that they had managed to convince Hermione's parents to go to The Burrow after work. For the day, they had left one Auror to watch and protect them.

When they finished eating, they got ready and headed for the graveyard where Thydeen's funeral would take place.

The ceremony, intimate except for the Aurors and some members of the Ministry, including Kingsley himself, was simple and sad. The very beautiful graveyard was located in the village of North Hurd, near Cambridge. The weather was cold, rainy, and gloomy as the event that was taking place under the cloud-covered sky.

Hermione, from her position at the end, watched the Aurors give their condolences to the widow, whose eyes were blotchy and whose face was tear-stained. Her parents were at her sides, holding her. Next to them was Thydeen's mother, holding her grandson; she looked lost.

Hermione tore her gaze from them and looked at the sky, letting the wild wind ruffle her hair. She couldn't bear looking at that family. The sight was painfully similar to many others she had seen after the war. What might be so important that some people didn't mind destroying a family to get it? It was something she had never been able to understand.

The ceremony ended quickly. After the body was buried, the Ministry official that had conducted it — the same wizard that had conducted Dumbledore's and so many others — thanked the assistants in the name of the family, and people began to leave.

Hermione walked between Harry and Ron, towards a secluded point where they could Disapparate without any Muggle seeing them. They Apparated outside The Burrow's boundaries and then went inside. Mr Weasley hadn't come back yet, but the house was full of activity, because, besides Ginny and James, Bill and Fleur and their children, Victoire and Dominique, were there as well.

Fleur embraced Hermione the moment she walked into the house, because she hadn't seen her since she had been attacked. She fussed over her for a while, asking her about the pregnancy, and then everyone sat down while Mrs Weasley offered them tea. Harry checked his watch.

"We have to go and fetch your parents soon. We arranged a Portkey for them to go to the clinic from here, so they can keep working."

Hermione nodded and drank her tea in silence, listening to the talking around her and watching the children play. She looked at Victoire, who was playing with some dolls at her mother's feet, and smiled, thinking that soon another girl would be around. But then she remembered Lewis Thydeen's son, and her expression saddened.

"Hermione, we have to get going," said Ron suddenly, taking her out of her reverie.

"Yes, yes," she said, standing up.

"Don't be late," Mrs Weasley told them, "dinner will be ready soon."

Hermione's parents were already at home when Ron and Hermione Apparated there. Before they could go inside, though, their identities were checked by Andrea Quilding, the Auror that had been protecting the Grangers the whole day.

"Has anything happened?" Ron asked her.

"Nothing," Andrea responded. "They're inside, packing their things."

"You can go now," Ron told her. "In the clinic, on Monday, at the same hour."

"All right, Weasley," she said. She nodded towards Hermione and then left.

"She's very serious," commented Hermione.

"Yeah," nodded Ron, "but efficient." He knocked on the door and, a moment later, Hermione's mother welcomed them and made them come inside.

Hermione had promised her parents, after bringing them back from Australia, that she would never hide anything from them again, so when they, looking utterly worried, asked them what was happening, she told them everything, though Ron and Harry had already given them a good summary of the latest events.

Hermione's words left her parents even more worried. Ron tried to calm them, saying that the best Aurors in the Ministry were leading the investigation, and that soon, the people responsible for these crimes would be in prison, where they belonged. It didn't work very well.

Hermione took her wand and sent her parents' luggage to The Burrow. Then, Ron and she used Side-Along Apparition to transport them. Arthur, who was already at home, greeted them warmly, a big grin on his face, and, while Molly finished making dinner, the Grangers were settled into the twins' old room, because it was the largest after Mr and Mrs Weasley's bedroom. Harry and Ginny were going to stay in Ginny's old room. Bill and Fleur, who had decided to stay, too, would occupy Bill's old room. George and Angelina and Percy and Audrey, on the contrary, had declined moving back, despite Mrs Weasley and Ron's insistence. That was something that left Ron feeling uneasy.

— — o — —

With ten people living in The Burrow now, in addition to the three children, the house was full of life and noises again, though it also was complete chaos at times, especially in the mornings when everyone had to leave for work. It was something that would drive any person mad, but Mrs Weasley, on the contrary, was simply delighted.

Several days had passed since they had moved to The Burrow, and, though Hermione loved being there, having a house so full of life and being surrounded by her family, she missed, sometimes, being just she and Ron in their house.

_We have made love only two times in eight days,_ she thought, a bit frustrated. It wasn't that they couldn't do it there; they had the privacy of Ron's old room. But having a house full of people implied, usually, that they went to bed late and, besides, having your parents and your parents-in-law under the same roof wasn't the best turn on for her. It had been somewhat exciting when they had started having sex, yes, but now, after several years living together, nothing compared to the privacy of their own house, where they didn't have to bother with charms or being careful.

Besides, the investigation into what was happening hadn't progressed in the slightest, and Ron was getting more and more frustrated. The four prisoners had been interrogated again, but they hadn't revealed anything new. A new team of Aurors had gone back to the cave, this time with the help of expert curse-breakers (Bill had been one of them, relishing the opportunity of doing field work again) to ensure no more traps had been set. But the explorations hadn't revealed anything, either. Julie had admitted to them, just the day before, that the case was at a dead end.

Ron's nightmares, Hermione thought, letting out a sigh, hadn't helped either.

Because Ron had had the same dream again, at least one night. He had got up almost yelling, not as loudly as the first time, but enough to awaken Hermione. He had assured her, afterwards, that that had been the only night, but Hermione didn't know if he was telling the truth or simply didn't want to worry her.

Meanwhile, Harry and Ron had talked to Kingsley about everything, but he hadn't ordered Blevelty to put them on the case. He had told them that, after the threatening letter, they would be distracted if they were doing anything else other than ensuring the family's safety, so they were doing exactly what they should. Hermione knew that, deep down, they knew that Kingsley was right, but neither had been happy about it.

So finally, Harry had arranged a dinner at New Home, to be held on Friday, in two days. Besides Harry, Ron, she and Ginny; Julie, Terry and Justin Finch-Fletchley, would attend, too. Harry considered important to have as many Aurors as possible. Luna and Neville had confirmed their assistance as well, and Harry had mentioned the possibility of 'others,' though hadn't said who. Hermione imagined they would be old members of the DA.

"Ready to go?" Ron asked her, taking her out of her reverie, when he walked into the room after his trip to the bathroom.

"Yeah," said Hermione, nodding. She looked at him. "Ron, this afternoon I have my monthly appointment with healer Gerrick. Will you go with me?"

Ron stared at her. "You aren't worried, are you? I mean, everything was fine when they checked you after the attack."

"I think so, but, after what that letter said ... What if there is something weird in our daughter?"

"Something weird?" Ron repeated, furrowing his brow. "Like what?"

Hermione shrugged.

"Even if there was, how would this man, whoever he is, know about it?"

"I don't know."

Ron looked at her thoughtfully. "Of course I'll go with you," he said.

Hermione smiled at him. "Thank you."

They left the room, climbed down the stairs and went into the kitchen, where Mrs Weasley was already pacing between the stove and the table, serving breakfast to everyone. They sat down between Harry and Bill, and were eating peacefully and having some small talk when the charm in the fireplace was set off, indicating that someone was trying to get into the house through the Floo Network or was making a call.

Everyone exchanged a look, and then Mr Weasley went up and, with a flick of his wand, asked, "Who is it?"

"It's me, Mr Weasley, Julie Simmells," answered a shaky voice inside the fireplace.

At once, Harry and Ron got up and moved closer to the fireplace, too.

Mr Weasley said, "Come in," and a moment later, Julie came out of the emerald fire, a bit dishevelled and shaken and, it seemed, she was on the verge of tears.

"What happened?" asked Harry.

Julie looked at everyone before answering.

"A mass Muggle killing," she said. "Tonight. More than fifty people. It was — it was the nastiest thing I've ever seen in my entire life."

Hermione felt her blood run cold in her veins. She threw a quick glance at her parents, who were staring at Julie unblinkingly, and then her eyes met with Ron's and Harry's, while an awful feeling of _Dejà vu_ flooded her.

* * *

_Not the most interesting or action-filled chapters, I know, but I think that the emotional toll on the characters is very important._

_I'll post the next chapter before my holidays, on Wednesday or Thursday. Have a nice week._


	9. Friends and Fire

_Well, and here is last chapter before I go on holiday. I think it's pretty intense ..._

_Thanks to Kathy for her help, and thank you to all my reviewers!_

* * *

**PART I**

**TALES OF NEW MYSTERIES**

_**Chapter 9**_

**Friends and Fire**

* * *

"Oh, Merlin!" said Mrs Weasley, putting a hand over her mouth. But her shock only lasted a second. A moment later, she walked towards Julie and put an arm over her shoulders. "Come here, dear. Sit down and have a cup of tea."

"I can't, Mrs Weasley, thanks," refused Julie politely, though in the end she didn't put up any resistance and let the older woman make her sit down and put a cup in front of her.

"What happened, Julie?" asked Ron, when he and Harry sat down again.

"I was sleeping," Julie started to explain, "when I was called. It was four o'clock in the morning. Something had happened in a lonely hotel in the mountains, and the Muggle police had no idea of what had happened. Someone was sent there, and the conclusion was that there had been Dark magic involved. So, well, you know how this works, the Muggle police received the order to leave the investigation to a 'special group' and we went there..." Julie took a sip of her tea, closed her eyes and shook her head, as if trying to shake off the image in her mind.

"They were all dead. More than fifty Muggles. Guests and personnel of the hotel. There were bodies everywhere."

"The Killing Curse?" asked Bill.

Julie shook her head. "Only in a few cases. _Sectumsempra_, Burning Curses ... that sort of thing," she said. "I've never seen so much blood in — in —" she shut her mouth.

"Oh, zat's 'orrible!" commented Fleur, sickened. "There — there weren't any survivors?"

Julie shook her head.

"But why?" asked Hermione's mother. "Why?"

"That's what some people call 'fun,'" explained Mr Weasley gravely. "But such a thing, so soon ..." He felt silent, but when he noticed that every pair of eyes was fixed on him, he continued. "During the two previous wars initiated by Voldemort, mass Muggle killings didn't start until he was really powerful. And some of them were caused to blackmail the Ministry. But now, what has happened leading up to this? An attack on Hermione and a dead Auror. That's not enough to spread fear or to make a group feel powerful and untouchable. And no one has claimed anything."

"Do you think this is related to the previous attacks?" Bill asked his father.

"It would be too much of a coincidence if it weren't."

Julie finished her tea and got up. "We have to get going," she said. "I only came to inform you. But I think Blevelty will want to assemble all Aurors for a meeting. I think that the Minister will attend, too."

"Okay, let's get going," said Ron, standing up.

"Yes," nodded Mr Weasley, getting to his feet as well. "It's going to be a hectic day, and I suppose I'll have lots of work, as this involves Muggles."

"Be careful, all of you," begged Mrs Weasley, her face full of worry.

After the meeting with the Aurors, Kingsley had another one with the most important members of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, so Hermione was in attendance, too. Kingsley told everyone that this threat was now considered of the highest level, and therefore, was the top priority of the Auror Office. All other assignments were secondary now.

"I've already informed the Prime Minister of the Muggles," said Kingsley, his voice showing unmistakably how worried he was. On his right side was Pyllus Pamwyck, Head of the Department; on his left, Blevelty, who was pale and sick-looking, as if these events were his fault for not being able to stop the Dark wizards in time.

"What are you going to tell the press?" asked Harry. Kingsley looked at him.

"The truth, of course. There's no point in lying. The Wizarding community deserves to know what's happening, and that there's a new threat out there." He sighed. "I won't lie to you. I never expected this to happen anymore, and especially, so soon after the last war. It is our duty to stop it before it gets too big, before more lives are wasted."

"We'll do our best, Minister," Sean Wilson said, and, besides him, Ron let out an almost inaudible snort.

"This case is the top priority of the whole Ministry," Kingsley told them. "I have scheduled meetings with members of the others departments and I intend to inform them so everyone can collaborate," he explained, and then got up. "Good morning to you all."

Once Kingsley had left the room, Pamwyck took his place.

"As the Minister has said, this case is now the absolute priority. Our goal is to stop it before it gets completely out of hand. As Muggles seem to be, again, primary targets, we'll set special protection on Muggleborns and their families. Regarding the Aurors, all of you will be assigned to the case in one way or another."

Hermione saw Harry and Ron look at each other, serious, but obviously pleased by this news.

"But sir, Potter and Weasley are too involved," Wilson complained. "I think that this investigation should be led by a senior Auror. Boot and Simmells are too young and don't have the necessary experience."

"Yes, and we don't have several months in the service of Lord Voldemort in our curricula, either!" snapped Julie, furious. Wilson turned slightly red and glared at Julie.

"Almost all of the Aurors here back then kept working for the Ministry," he defended himself. "Things were confusing." He turned towards Blevelty. "You must remember that, sir."

"Shut up, both of you," Blevelty scolded. "You are all Aurors; we are one team, so act like one!"

"Sorry, sir," Wilson said, but he threw a deadly glare at Julie, and she responded with an equal one. Hermione turned her head to look at Ron and saw him trying to conceal a smug smile.

"We'll release security guides — but useful ones, not like last time," Pamwyck continued. "The security measures at the Ministry will be heightened. However, I want all of you to keep an eye on the people you know. We don't want spies or people bewitched here."

"You want us to spy on our co-workers?" asked a woman.

"No, I want you to look out for them. Now, off to work, everyone. We have a lot to do."

People started to get up and leave the room.

Once in the halls, Hermione saw Julie give Wilson a nasty glare. She knew that the young girl was dying to say something to him, but he was ranked higher than her. That, however, was a problem Ron didn't have.

"You're a piece of scum, Wilson," he spat at him. "What do you have against Terry and Julie?"

Wilson stopped walking and turned to face him.

"Oh, I don't know! She has been an Auror for just two years. Add to that that her trainer had been an Auror for just four before he was assigned to her, and what do we get? Someone underprepared to lead a case like this one!"

Hermione could feel Ron stiffen with anger.

"They've done a good job!"

"Have they?" asked Wilson calmly, raising an eyebrow. "Why don't you ask Thydeen's wife? Let's see what she thinks."

Some people gasped at such a low blow.

"You fucking son of a —!" Ron yelled, advancing upon him. Wilson got ready for a fight, but Hermione and Harry grabbed Ron before he could reach him.

"The only reason she got on this case was because you and Potter, as always, get what you want. And okay, Potter defeated _him_, but what have you done? What skills do you have?" Wilson sneered at him.

"I'm capable of wiping that fucking sneer off your face!" yelled Ron, clenching his fists menacingly. "I think that's a very good skill!"

"Ron, please," pleaded Hermione in a low voice. "He's not worth it."

"And you shut up, Wilson!" Harry ordered the other Auror.

"Worried about your sidekick, Potter? That's all he is!"

"_Sean_," Erica Woollenboot warned him.

"I'd rather be the doormat on which Harry cleans his boots than a bag of shit like you!"

"Ron, ignore him," Hermione whispered. "He's just a jealous idiot."

"Take him out of here," Harry ordered the others, pointing at Wilson. Erica grabbed Sean's arm, but, with a rude movement, he broke free, threw a nasty glance at them and walked off.

"Fucking arsehole," muttered Ron, glaring at Wilson as though he wanted to bore a hole on his back.

"Don't mind him, Ron," interjected Julie. "As Hermione said, he's just jealous."

Ron grunted.

"Do you still plan on keeping up that dinner for tomorrow night?" Hermione asked Harry in a low voice, eager to change the topic and make Ron forget about Wilson.

"Yes," he nodded. "I think we should inform our friends out there, and get their help. But I'll talk to Kingsley about it. Do you want to come with me?"

"Yeah, we'll be there," said Ron, still fuming.

"Okay," said Hermione. "I'll be in my office. Fetch me when you want to go." She grabbed Ron's hands, stood on tiptoe and gave him a peck on his lips. "Don't let him get under your skin, okay?" He nodded. "See you later."

They say goodbye to one another and Hermione headed for her office. A folder with information about the attack on that hotel was already there. She took a deep breath, sat on her chair and opened it.

Julie hadn't lied; it was really nasty, even worse than the Battle of Hogwarts. It seemed that most of the guests had been attacked while being in their rooms. But at some point, the screams must have awakened the rest of the people, who had left their rooms to see what had happened, or to escape ... and they had been mercilessly slaughtered in the corridors. No one had stood a chance.

Hermione felt her insides turn at the photos, feeling a sense of dread fill her. Even the Death Eaters, during Voldemort's reign of terror, had been cleaner than this. Were these people trying to demonstrate that they were worse? That they were ready to go even further?

And yet ... the Attackers — that was how Kingsley had referred to them in the meeting, as they seemed to have no other purpose but to attack people — hadn't left any clue, or mark, that served as claim of what they had done. What was the purpose of it, then? Just killing? Like some sort of sick hunting?

Examining that report was making her feel a bit sick, so she was grateful when, almost at noon, Ron came to fetch her and have a break before going to talk to Kingsley. They joined Harry and Julie at the canteen. Julie looked very tired.

"How are you?" Hermione asked her when Ron and she sat down.

Julie shrugged. "Coping."

"Have you two gone there?" she asked Harry and Ron.

"No," said Harry. "As we were assigned to protection, we've been taking care of the other Muggleborns."

"Not exactly what we wanted to do," commented Ron, "but, well, we're on the case, and if something happens, we'll be in the middle of it."

"And what have you done to protect them?" asked Hermione. "The Muggleborns, I mean."

"We've put strong charms around their houses," explained Ron. "They have an alarm, too. So if the charms are attacked, we'll know."

"We've been working on a security guide, too," added Harry.

"Well," said Hermione, "I've been reading the report, and, to tell you the truth, I'm completely puzzled. I mean, that ... massacre is — well, totally pointless." She looked at them in turns. "What is your next step?"

"We'll keep trying to find any sign of magic that may help us identify the wizard or witch who did this," explained Ron. "And we'll look at lists of old suspects from those known to practice the Dark Arts. We'll have their wands examined."

"I don't think that'll be enough, though," added Julie. Everyone seemed to agree with her, but no one said it out loud.

"We don't have much time; we should be going if we want to talk to Kingsley," said Harry after a few seconds of silence, and stood up.

"Yeah, let's go," nodded Hermione.

They said goodbye to Julie and headed for Level one, where Kingsley's office was. Harry had sent a request for a meeting previously, so Kingsley's secretary told them that he was already waiting for them. They all went in and Kingsley, with a weary smile, told them to sit down.

"Well," he greeted them, "what's the matter?"

"We are holding a meeting tomorrow night, at my house," Harry started to explain. "I've invited some friends, old members of the DA, and people who fought in the Battle of Hogwarts. I want to inform them of the recent events, to have them ready if necessary. Neville, for example, is at Hogwarts. There are Muggleborns there."

Kingsley stared at them for a moment, and then, a slight grin curved the corners of his mouth.

"It was expected," he said simply.

"You don't think it's a bad idea?" Hermione asked him. "It is not like before; it is not as if we don't trust the Ministry."

"I know, Hermione. Don't worry. I understand, and I think it is a good idea. But keep it ... clandestine. It could be like a secret weapon."

"A secret weapon?" asked Ron, confused.

Kingsley leaned against the back of his chair. "I mean that, whoever is behind this, will count on the Auror Office and the Ministry, but won't know anything about a, let's say, secret group that is helping in the shadows."

"My thoughts exactly," said Harry, nodding and smiling in satisfaction. "We'll keep you informed, all right?"

"You'd better," Kingsley warned him.

The three friends stood up and left the office.

— — o — —

"Ready?" Hermione asked Ron from the door of his cubicle. He was reading a piece of parchment, and turned round upon hearing her voice. He smiled at her.

"Yeah, I am."

"I could go alone, if you're busy," said Hermione. "I mean, after what happened —"

"I've already arranged everything," he replied. "Let's go."

They used the Floo Network to go to the hospital. When they stepped out of the fireplace, they headed for the information desk.

"I have an appointment," said Hermione. "Hermione Granger."

The woman behind the desk stared at her for a few seconds, and then nodded. "Er — yeah." She looked into a book. "You can go in. Room 7C."

"Thank you," said Hermione, and both she and Ron headed for the hallway that led to the surgery offices. They turned right to take another hallway, labelled as Corridor C, and knocked on the door identified by a large black number seven. Nobody answered. Hermione looked at Ron questioningly, and he shrugged.

"Is it open?"

Hermione didn't like the idea of opening the door without having been invited, and hesitated. Ron, however, didn't seem to have a problem and tried the doorknob. He opened the door.

"Mr Weasley? Mrs Granger?"

Ron and Hermione turned to their left, startled. A healer had turned the corner and was approaching them. His penetrating grey eyes focused on her, and she realised he was the healer that had tended to her after the attack.

"Healer Adder," greeted Ron.

"Do you have an appointment now?" the healer asked.

"Yeah, with Healer Gerrick," explained Ron. "But he's not here. Do you —?"

"Healer Gerrick?" asked the healer. "So it is you. Sorry, I had forgotten. You both work at the Ministry, so you know what happened. I, among other healers, was required to prepare the bodies of those poor Muggles before letting the Muggle authorities handle the whole thing." He pulled a face. "It was the nastiest thing I've ever seen, and I am quite tired." Hermione observed his face and noticed that he did look tired.

"Come in, then," Adder added, and went into room 7C.

Hermione furrowed her brow. "Where is Healer Gerrick?"

Healer Adder sat behind the desk inside the room before looking at them and answering. "He no longer works here."

"What?" asked Hermione.

"It was quite strange, I have to say — and very inconsiderate on his part. Apparently, he got a new job abroad. He presented his resignation last week and left, leaving us in a good mess. All his patients had to be reassigned."

"Last week?" asked Hermione. "After — after the attack?"

"Umh, yes," said Adder, nodding thoughtfully. "I think it was the next day, in fact. You were attacked on Monday, were you?" Hermione nodded. "Yes, he resigned on Tuesday. I'm sorry," the healer added apologetically. "I know it's not a good thing to change your healer, especially during a pregnancy."

"It's not your fault," Hermione said automatically. Her head was spinning.

"As I tended to you last week, they have assigned you to me. We're still looking for a permanent replacement. How have you been?"

"Fine," answered Hermione.

"Good to know, after such a traumatic experience," said Adder. "Let me get your file and I'll examine you." He stood up, walked towards the end of the room and went through a door that Hermione knew led to the archives.

Hermione turned to look at Ron. "Am I the only one that finds this strange?" Hermione asked him in a whisper.

Ron looked thoughtful for a moment. "It seems too much of a coincidence, yes. Do you think he was kidnapped? Or that he is involved in the attacks?"

"I don't know," said Hermione, feeling very uneasy. "It could be just a coincidence ..."

"But you don't think so."

"No, I don't think so," Hermione confirmed. "Nothing that happens to us occurs by chance, Ron."

Ron was going to say something, but closed his mouth when he saw the healer walk back into the room. Hermione turned to look at him, and noticed that he was empty-handed, and that he wore a very confused and worried look on his face.

"What's the matter?" asked Ron.

"Well —" He hesitated. "Your file — it's not there."

"What do you mean, 'it's not there?'" asked Ron, scowling.

"The file is not in the filing cabinet."

"_You've lost my wife's file?"_

"Those files can't be lost. They're enchanted so they cannot disappear, get destroyed, or taken out of this building without previous consent from the Wizengamot or the patient," Healer Adder explained. He looked visibly upset and worried.

"Could someone else have taken it? Another healer?" asked Ron.

"No. Your wife is my patient now. No one would have taken it, except if she had to be attended during my absence, which, I assume, didn't happen."

"Who could have taken a file out of the building without authorisation?"

Adder fixed his worried and penetrating eyes on hers. "Only someone capable of powerful Dark magic."

Hermione felt a shiver run down her spine.

_My interest in you and your unborn child has only grown..._

Adder narrowed his eyes. "Do you — do you think this is related to Healer Gerrick leaving?"

"Could he have taken the file out of the building?"

"No, I've told you; only Dark magic could do that." Adder began to pace the room back and forth. "I have to inform the Head Healer," he added. "If someone is capable of taking files out of St Mungo's, we have to take measures."

"What's with our daughter?" Hermione asked, looking at Ron, whose worry mirrored hers. "Why are they so interested in her?"

"Hermione, don't talk ab—"

"They?" asked Adder. "Who's interested in your daughter? What do you mean?"

"This is confidential information," Ron replied.

"I deal with confidential information every day, Mr Weasley," he said, but didn't insist. He looked at Hermione. "Lie on the bed. I'm going to examine you. If someone stole the files, there must be something."

"But you already examined her, and didn't find anything," Ron said.

"I was looking for damage, not for something odd. Mrs Granger, please."

Hermione nodded, stood up and lay on the bed. Adder approached her and moved his wand over her repeatedly, but with different movements and making different shapes. After ten minutes of tense silence, he sighed and put his wand back in his pocket.

"Everything is normal."

"She is a witch, isn't she?" asked Ron. "She — she isn't a squib, right?"

Adder shrugged. "As surely you already know, that's impossible to find out before birth. There's no test than can tell us that. Certainly, that wasn't written on the file.

"Healer Adder, I understand that you have to tell the Head of St Mungo's, but you can't tell anyone else. I will need all the information you have about Healer Gerrick, including his patients."

Adder stared at Ron for a moment, and then nodded. "Don't worry. No one will know. And we'll try to find what happened to those files. Regarding Gerrick," he continued, as Hermione get up, "apart from Mrs Granger and Amelda Ickins, who's also been assigned to me, right now only the Blevelty girl comes to my mind, but —"

Both Ron and Hermione gasped loudly.

"What?" Adder asked them.

"You mean the girl with Schebert's Syndrome?" asked Hermione.

"Yes," nodded Adder, who seemed a bit puzzled by the fact that they knew the girl or what her illness was. "I remember because it is very unusual for a child to recover completely." He smiled. "It was such a happy day. Do you know her?"

"His father is my boss," said Ron.

Adder nodded.

"We have to go," said Ron. "Thank you for your help. And remember: you can't tell anything to anybody but the Head."

Adder nodded.

"I expect you next month, Mrs Granger," he told Hermione. He hesitated for a moment, and then added, in a sad tone, "Take care."

"Ron, I don't like this," Hermione said the moment they were out of the room. She was feeling very anxious.

"We'll get to the bottom of this. We'll investigate that healer. If he really is involved, at least we have a clue." He put his arms around her and kissed her on the forehead. "Let's go to the Ministry. We have to tell Harry this. And tonight we have the dinner."

Hermione nodded, and they headed for the reception and the fireplaces, both deep in thought.

— — o — —

The living room in New Home was bursting with activity. Friends that hadn't seen each other in some time were catching up, smiling, and even joking, despite that the reason for such a meeting was far from cheerful.

As making dinner for so many people would be too much, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny had ordered food from Hannah Abbott, landlady of the Leaky Cauldron and Neville's girlfriend, and asked her to deliver it when they came. And right now, she, Ginny and Harry were in the kitchen, while, in the living room, Ron and Hermione were conjuring chairs and enlarging the table to accommodate everyone.

They both were the least cheerful of the group, though the good thing about what they had discovered, as Harry had pointed out when they had informed him, was that, at least, they had a clue. The three of them had agreed to talk to Blevelty about Gerrick, but the Head Healer was not in the office, and wouldn't be back until Monday.

When everything was ready, Harry asked everyone to sit down, while, behind him, Ginny and Hannah brought the dishes and Ron put bottles of wine and jars with water on the table.

"Let's try and enjoy this, okay?" he whispered to Hermione before sitting down. "Look at how many people want to help. We'll get to the bottom of this."

She smiled at him. It wasn't a very happy smile, but it was the best she had given since they had gone to St Mungo's.

"Okay," she whispered back to him.

"Well," Harry started, when everyone was seated. "First, thank you all for being here. I'm sure you have read in the _Daily_ _Prophet —_"

"_The Quibbler _had a good article about this, too," piped up Luna.

"Eh — yeah, and _The Quibbler_," Harry accepted, obviously trying not to remember the recent strange theories about spirits of dead Death Eaters that had possessed others to get revenge. "You know why you are here. I think that some of you —" he looked at Julie, "— don't know all the people here, so let me make a small introduction before dinner." He pointed to his left, where Ginny was sitting, and started.

"Ginny, my wife, sports reporter for the _Daily Prophet_; Julie Simmells, Auror; Neville Longbottom, ex-Auror and assistant professor of Herbology at Hogwarts; Hannah Abbott, landlady of the Leaky Cauldron; Justin Finch-Fletchley, Auror; Terry Boot, Auror; George Weasley, owner of Weasley Wizard Wheezes; Angelina Johnson, chaser for the London Falcons." Angelina was seated at the other head of the table, just opposite Harry, and he continued on the other side, with the person sitting in front of George. "Lee Jordan, George's assistant at Weasley Wizard Wheezes; Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan, employees of the Department of Magical Sports; Lavender Brown, co-owner of Patil-Brown Wizarding Fashion in Diagon Alley; Luna Lovegood, reporter for _The Quibbler_; Hermione Granger, official at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; and Ron Weasley, Auror."

"All of you, thanks for coming. We're living in dark times again, and it is important that people outside the Ministry are informed and aware, and ready to act if necessary. However, I think we should have the wonderful dinner Hannah made for us before addressing these serious topics. So, as Dumbledore would say, tuck in!"

At once, everyone began to eat and talk.

People began to chatter and laugh as they enjoyed the delicious meal, and soon Hermione felt a bit better. Despite everything, it was comforting to see almost all her friends there, enjoying a dinner and ready to help one another.

"Thank God it's Friday," Julie commented. "This week has been hell. Two days to rest will be like heaven."

"You don't have to work this weekend?" asked Neville. "I was under the impression that the Ministry was on red alert."

"It is," Harry explained, "But not everyone is working on the weekends. At least, not for now."

"Fortunately," added Julie. "I'm looking forward to a bit of relaxation. I talked to my dad and we're going to a football match tomorrow," she said happily. Julie liked Quidditch, but was a football fanatic, something she owed to her father, who was a Muggle.

"You keep watching _that_?" said Ron, almost scoffing. "I don't know how you stand it, boring as it is."

Julie glared at him, frowning intensely. "It is not boring," she argued, a warning note in her voice.

"Yeah, twenty-two people running after a ball that can't even fly. You'll tell me —"

"Not again, please," muttered Hermione, shaking her head.

"I remember that time you convinced Hermione and me to go," continued Ron disdainfully. "I thought I would die of boredom. The most wasted two hours of my life."

Hermione remembered it very well. Tired of arguing with Ron about football, Julie had convinced him to go to a match. Ron had accepted, and they had gone. None of Hermione's parents were great fans, so she had never taken much interest in it. She found Quidditch more enjoyable, though she didn't care much about it either. Ron had spent the hour and half the match lasted criticising everything, from the low number of balls to how slow the game was or the small number of goals one could see in a match. Julie had sworn that evening had been the worst mistake of her life and that she wouldn't take Ron to a match ever again even if her own life depended on it.

That hadn't put an end to their arguments, though.

"Well, of course, you can't watch it with wizard's eyes!" replied Julie, turning red with anger. "But it's fun. And it's about the emotion, about supporting your team no matter what, and ab— oh, why do I bother?"

"Yeah, you'd better not," interjected Dean from the other side of the table. "I shared a dorm with him for six years and he never understood."

"Because there's nothing to understand," continued Ron stubbornly. "I admit that it may be interesting for Muggles; but, as wizards, once you've seen Quidditch, I don't get how you can find it appealing at all!"

A moment later, an argument about sports had broken, so Hermione, who didn't feel like taking part in it, turned towards Luna and began to chat with her about her job. Lavender joined them a bit later.

After a while, the argument finally ended, both factions claiming they had won, and the guests began to talk about other things. Twenty minutes later, when dessert had been served and everyone had had it, Harry vanished the large table and everyone sat in a circle.

Harry, Ron and Hermione explained everything, including the attack against Hermione, whose details hadn't been made public. The information caused a stir among the guests, who looked at Hermione in awe and with pity, something she found a bit uncomfortable. Then, Terry Boot, as the Auror that led the investigation, explained everything about the cave in the Choire Mhoire cliffs and the mass Muggle killing.

After that, Harry stepped in once more and explained what he wanted of them, which basically consisted of being in close contact again and keeping an open eye for anything unusual or strange behaviours, at least, until they had more information.

Finally, Ron told them about the threat Hermione and he had received, the mysterious resignation of her healer and the disappearance of her medical file. Then he showed them the letter. The parchment was passed from hand to hand all around the room while the attendees talked about what they had just heard.

"We don't know anything about it," said Hermione, feeling a bit uncomfortable. "I know there's something there, something odd, but I didn't catch it. I suppose my mind's not at its best these days," she added as an apology.

"Do you think the person who wrote this is the one that is behind this all?" asked Dean.

"Yes," nodded Hermione. "We have no proof, though."

"So you've met him?" asked Luna.

"Met him?" repeated Hermione, frowning. "I don't think so. If I did, I don't know, of course. Why do you say that?"

"Well, the letter says _'I look forward to a new encounter between us_,' so I assume you've met in the past."

Hermione opened her mouth wide. "That's it!" she shouted, leaning towards Luna and snatching the letter from her hands. "That's it! That was the answer I was looking for!" She looked at the parchment, reading the line over and over again. She couldn't believe they had missed that. "I've met them ... But when? And where?"

"Maybe during the war?" guessed Ginny.

"I don't know," said Hermione. "The Death Eaters, those snatchers ... they're all dead or in prison, aren't they?"

"They are," confirmed Ron.

"Or that's what you believe," piped in Seamus.

"We're pretty sure," replied Terry.

Hermione sat down once more and leaned against the back of her chair, her head spinning. Who could it be? Who had she met that could be behind all this? It was impossible to know. She had met dozens of people, maybe more, in the last years.

"And what about the file?" asked Neville. "Why do you think they took it?"

"We have absolutely no idea," said Ron. "There's nothing strange about the baby."

"It doesn't matter," interjected Julie. "It's a baby. It's Ron and Hermione's baby. I consider her my niece and Merlin knows I won't let anything bad happen to her."

"Hear, hear!" shouted Seamus.

"Of course," added Lavender.

"No one except me will do anything bad to her," added George.

Hermione felt Ron grab her hand, and smiled warmly at their friends.

"Thanks," she said, deeply touched. "Thanks to you all."

"So I assume, then, that you are ready to do this? You did a lot last time. I hope we don't get to the same point, but I'll understand if you simply prefer to continue on with your peaceful lives and not bother with this."

"We fought and lost good people, people we loved, to have what we have now," stated George, determined and serious. "And as I stated before, some sick bastard is threatening my family again. Of course I am in."

"We all are," interjected Seamus.

"Of course," agreed Dean.

"We're in," added Neville.

Hermione smiled, like Ron, and she saw Harry grin and look at their friends with pride.

"Then it's settled. We'll give you something Hermione prepared, like those old coins but better. And we'll use them —" Harry's voice faded instantly, interrupted by the loud sound coming from one of Ron's pockets. He rummaged inside and extracted a parchment that seemed to be wailing. Julie, Terry and Justin stood up at once.

"The Ashtons," said Ron, looking at the list written on the parchment. "They're being attacked."

"Let's go!" yelled Harry. He looked at Hermione. "Give them that. Then go to The Burrow and wait there for us, okay?"

"Okay. Be — be careful, please."

"Do you want any of us to go?" asked Neville, standing up as well.

"No. Not for now. It'll be better if this group is a secret." He looked at Ron. "Let's go. If we need help, we'll call for it."

Hermione exchanged a glance with Ron and saw his lips form the sentence 'I love you;' she answered with the same words. Then, the five Aurors turned on the spot and vanished.

— — o — —

Ron Apparated in the middle of a street, near the Ashtons' residence. A moment later, he heard the other 'pops!' that signalled the Apparition of Harry, Terry, Julie and Justin.

"The charm sets off the alarm at the first attempt to break it," said Harry. "Maybe they haven't got in yet. Let's go!"

They ran towards the house, which was situated fifty yards down the street. While they ran, Ron looked at the other houses that bordered it. None of the Muggles living there seemed to have noticed anything strange.

Just before they reached the gate that lead to the front garden, a sound like thunder resounded, and two figures wrapped in black cloaks and wearing hoods appeared out of thin air in front of the front door. The one on the left aimed his wand at the door and blasted it, demolishing part of the wall, too.

"DON'T MOVE!" yelled Harry then, aiming his wand at them and running through the gate and into the garden. "We're Aurors."

Surprised, the two wizards or witches wheeled around, finding themselves face to face with five Aurors that were aiming their wands at them.

"Drop your wands. NOW!" ordered Harry.

The two cloaked figures didn't do anything, and Ron had a cold feeling run down his spine, as if something wasn't right. They were two against five. Why were they resisting? Except if —

"_Deflagratio!"_

"_Protego!_" shouted Ron instinctively, turning round to look towards the place where the voice had come from.

It was not quick or strong enough, though. Ron saw a streak of yellow light surge from a spot behind some trees on the other side of the street and hit the fence, which exploded, causing a shock wave that threw the five Aurors onto their backs. However, the Shield Charm Ron had cast prevented them from being severely injured.

Ron, cursing inwardly, allowed himself just a moment of rest to regain his breath before getting to his feet and attacking, but, before he could do anything, one of figures in the garden bellowed, "_Crucio!_" and a moment later the night was filled with Justin's screams of pain.

Realising he didn't have time enough to get up, he just rolled onto his stomach, aimed his wand and threw a Stunning Spell towards the man casting the Cruciatus Curse, exactly at the same time as Harry. The beams of red light soared towards their targets, but the second attacker cast a Shield Charm that deflected them. However, that gave Julie and Terry time to cast their own hexes, and this time both enemies had to move away to dodge the spells, freeing Justin from the torture.

Ron got up and saw, from the corner of his eye, Harry doing the same. As his friend aimed his wand towards one of the two wizards in front of them, Ron turned round and ran through the smoke and the debris from the destroyed fence, towards the park on the other side, wanting to catch the person who had cast the Exploding Curse.

"Ron, wait!" Julie yelled behind him. Ron glanced backwards. In the garden of the Ashtons, the battle had commenced, but instead of helping the others, Julie was running after him.

While he crossed the street, ready to dodge any curse that could come in his direction, he noticed that a lot of windows and doors had opened, and that, in every house, Muggles were watching what was happening, astounded.

"GET IN!" Ron yelled at them. "GET IN YOUR HOMES!"

_A good amount of work for the obliviators_, Ron thought quickly, just before a new curse, this time the killing one, surged from behind a tree and soared straight towards him. He moved aside swiftly, dodging it. A moment later, a new spell, this time cast by Julie, flew through the air and impacted the trunk of a tree, making splinters and pieces of wood fly everywhere. Ron saw the person hiding behind it move backwards, raising a hand to protect his face, but, at the same time, aiming his wand again. However, before they could do anything, they were distracted by the tree, which was falling over them, so they had to direct their wand upwards, to protect themselves and make the tree fall some feet away from them. Ron used that distraction to throw a new well-aimed Stunning Spell that hit the attacker straight in the chest and made him drop onto the floor, unconscious.

Ron stopped, and Julie caught up with him, looking all around for more possible hidden attackers. But Ron concluded that, if no one had attacked them, surely the person behind the tree was alone.

Ron brushed his face with his sleeve, trying to wipe away the sweat that covered his face, despite the cold night, and turned round. He could not see the garden due to the smoke caused by the explosion and some bushes that had caught fire, but the sound of spells going back and forth could not be heard, so he assumed the battle had ended there as well.

He turned towards the park once more, and saw that Julie was already there, binding the unconscious attacker with thick magical ropes. Ron walked towards her and stooped next to them. He uncovered his head with a flick of his wand and, by the light of the streetlamps, he could see it was a man, younger than him, but not much more. His face was vaguely familiar, so he imagined he had seen him before, probably at Hogwarts.

"I know him," commented Julie. "He is a year younger than me. Moebius Dumbsey, I think that was his name. He was in Ravenclaw."

"Ravenclaw?" repeated Ron. He knew, of course, that not every Death Eater and Dark wizard had been in Slytherin — Peter Pettigrew was good proof of that — but still...

"Yes," said Julie, a bit ashamed. "He wasn't very friendly, from what I remember, but I would never have imagined —"

"Ron! Julie!" Ron heard Harry call them.

"We're here!" Julie shouted back.

Ron stood up and, with his wand, made Dumbsey float through the air and towards the street. Julie took his wand from the ground.

"You caught him!" Harry said, pleasantly surprised, while he brushed a little cut on his forehead.

"We did," Ron nodded. "Where are the others? And what happened to you?"

"Nothing, had to jump out of the way of a curse and a stone hit me in the head. We caught one of them, but the other Disapparated," he explained. "We are fine, but Terry got a nasty cut on his left leg. He'll have to go to St Mungo's, I think. Are you two all right?"

"Fine," answered Ron. He had just uttered the word when they heard the sound of police cars in the distance. "We're going to need a group of obliviators right now," he added. "And we'd better go before the police arrive."

"Justin is inside, getting the Ashtons out. Until we repair the protective charms, this place is not safe."

The three of them, followed by Dumbey's floating body, went into the garden once more. There was some damage. The fence and the front wall of the house had received the worse, but it was nothing that couldn't be repaired with magic in a few minutes. In front of the hole that had been the front door of the house, Terry Boot was sitting, his right leg wrapped in a bandage. Next to him, unconscious and bound, was the other attacker, a woman in her forties.

"Are the Ashtons safe?" Harry asked Terry when they reached him.

"Yes. Justin took them to the Ministry. He said that he would wait for us there," Terry explained, with a pained expression on his face. "I saw that we've had a lot of Muggle witnesses, so I asked him to send a group of Obliviators."

"Well done," said Harry. "Now let's leave before the police arrive."

They grabbed the two unconscious people and Apparated right into the Apparition room at the Ministry. A moment later, aware of the disturbance, two Aurors that were on guard opened the door.

"Let's take these two to the interrogation rooms," said Harry in his authoritarian voice. He looked at Terry. "You go to St Mungo's. Julie, accompany him, please."

"I'm fine," Terry protested. "It's just a scratch. I want to know what those bastards say."

"You're bleeding," Julie scolded him. "And you're in pain, so don't argue." She smiled at Harry and Ron and, grabbing Terry's arm, they Disapparated.

"Ron, can you send a message home so they know we're all right?"

"Yeah."

Harry left with the other two Aurors and the prisoners, and Ron conjured his Jack Russell Terrier and sent it to find Hermione and Ginny. Once that was done, he took off for the interrogation rooms, where Harry and the other two Aurors were putting them on chairs, still unconscious and bound.

"Do you know who the woman is?" Ron asked the others.

"No," answered Harry.

"Her face looks familiar to me," said one of the other Aurors, a woman called Elizabeth Seafish. "I don't know her name, though."

"The boy is called Moebius Dumbsey," said Ron. "Julie recognised him. He was in Ravenclaw."

"In Ravenclaw?" repeated Harry, dumbfounded. "That's strange."

"Yeah," nodded Ron.

"Let's wake them up. If I can, I'll get information about where they reunite before the one who escaped can alert them and they have time to erase all clues," said Harry. He pointed his wand at them and said, "_Ennervate! Ennervate!_"

A moment later, both prisoners, man and woman, opened their eyes and blinked a few times, confused. The man looked around, puzzled, and then fixed his eyes on the four people in front of him. The woman did the same, and her expression hardened.

"I want to know everything, and I want that information now!" Harry demanded. "Who's your leader? Where do you reunite? How did you dismantle the wards protecting the Ashtons' house so easily?"

"Fuck you, Potter," the woman said contemptuously, and then spat at them.

Ron felt his fury growing, and clutched his wand in his hand more tightly. A few sparks flew off its tip. Dumbsey's eyes looked at it and then at Ron's face, a bit afraid. But the woman just laughed.

"Can't control your wand, Weasley? At your age? Good wizard, you are. But I suppose that happens when you repeatedly put your cock inside a Mudblood."

Ron gave two steps towards them, trembling with rage. "Don't you dare —"

"Ron!" Harry yelled, putting his left hand on his right shoulder. "Calm down, okay? They'll talk and then will go straight to Azkaban. Let's get Veritaserum."

Ron nodded, and, with a last glare at the woman, turned round to go and get it, but, before he could reach the door, Elizabeth shouted, "What the hell?"

Ron wheeled around, his wand ready, but what he saw made him stop dead.

Both prisoners, man and woman, were writhing on the chairs, smoke coming out of their mouths, noses, eyes and ears. Their expressions were of absolute terror, and they seemed unable to talk ... or scream.

"What's happening to them?" asked Ron, moving to stand beside Harry.

"I don't know! _Aguamenti!_"

A stream of water flowed from the tip of Harry's wand and fell over the steaming bodies of the prisoners, but, instead of cooling them down, the temperature of their bodies seemed to grow. Now they could feel the heat, reaching them in waves.

"Someone call a healer!" yelled Harry. "We have to —"

He couldn't finish the sentence, because, as he was speaking, the bodies of the prisoners burst into flames.

Instinctively, the four Aurors retreated and, lifting their wands, cast a Shield Charm to protect themselves. The flames devoured the bodies and the table, reducing it to soot in seconds. The walls started to crack due to the intense heat, and Ron, full of fear, couldn't help but be reminded of the Fiendfyre that had almost killed Harry, Hermione and him in the Room of Requirement.

For a few seconds, the inferno seemed to gain intensity, and then the fire simply died out, leaving on the floor the horribly smelling, charred rests of two former human bodies.

* * *

_Yeah, nasty again! Hope you liked this Ron's POV, with more action than last one (or different kind of 'action')._

_I'll update between Tuesday and Thursday, okay? You can review to spend the time :-)_


	10. Dark Christmas

_Here it is chapter 10. Hope you enjoy it._

_As always, many thanks to __**Kathy**__ for being the best beta in the world._

* * *

**PART I**

**TALES OF NEW MYSTERIES**

_**Chapter 10**_

**Dark Christmas**

* * *

Hermione was sitting on the couch, at The Burrow, next to George and Angelina. Her parents were sitting in two chairs near the fire. Ginny seemed to be unable to stay still, though, and was pacing the living room back and forth.

After Harry, Ron, Julie, Terry and Justin had left; Hermione had given the other attendants a small piece of parchment that would allow them to communicate with one another. Then, everyone else had left, asking to be informed when Hermione and Ginny knew what had happened. Then, the two of them, with George and Angelina, had closed and sealed New Home and gone back to The Burrow, where they were now, nervously waiting for news.

Mrs Weasley and Fleur came from the kitchen, carrying dishes with tea and mugs for everyone. They were giving each person in the room theirs when Ron's Jack Russell Terrier came through the window, startling them all, and spoke.

"We're at the Ministry. We're okay. No one died. The Ashtons are safe. We caught two of them and we're going to question them. Don't know when we'll be home."

Hermione let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, relieved and happy. Mrs Weasley let out a happy shriek, and Ginny, finally, dropped beside Hermione, sighing in relief, and embraced her.

"They're okay, they're okay!"

"I know," said Hermione, returning the hug. "I know."

Ginny drank half her tea in a gulp, and said that she was going to check on James.

"Can you use the parchment to inform the others?" asked Hermione. Ginny nodded and left.

"Two of zem," commented Fleur happily, sitting on Bill's lap and beaming at Hermione. "You should be so proud!"

"I am," said Hermione.

"I hope they can get the necessary information to stop this madness," commented Mr Weasley, "and we all can go back to how our lives were."

"Well, as they're fine, I think we should go home," said George, grabbing Angelina's hand, and they both stood up. Mrs Weasley looked at them.

"Surely you want to stay?"

"No, thanks, Molly," said Angelina.

"There's more than enough people here, Mum," added George. He looked at Hermione and ruffled her hair playfully, "Besides, I'm sure that, when we get up, Hermione's boys will have put all these Dark wizards in jail."

"I hope that, too," said Hermione trying to tame her hair.

George and Angelina waited a few seconds until Ginny was back, announcing that James was deeply asleep, said goodbye to everyone and left by Floo.

Hermione finished her tea slowly. She was a bit tired, and yet she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep until Ron was back or she had more news. If they finally get the information they needed from the prisoners, they could be embarking on a new mission tonight, and she wanted to be aware of it.

As the minutes went by, though, she began to see more and more stifled yawns, and, one hour after the arrival of Ron's Patronus, Mrs Weasley announced she was going to bed, but not before demanding to be informed of anything the moment the news came. Bill and Fleur followed her example and, after bidding the others goodnight, disappeared up the stairs. Hermione's parents got to their feet, too.

"Do you want us to stay?" her mother asked her, putting a hand on her left shoulder.

"No, go to bed if you're tired," said Hermione, putting her own hand over her mother's. "Everything's all right."

"We're going, then," Hermione's father said. "Tell us if there is any news."

The Grangers kissed their daughter good night and left the room, leaving just Mr Weasley, Ginny and Hermione in the living room. Mr Weasley took a book and tried to distract himself by reading; Ginny began to play with a stack of exploding cards and Hermione just stared at the fire.

After a while, she grew bored, so she got up, grabbed the dishes with the empty mugs of tea, took them to the kitchen and put them in the sink. She was going to use her wand to wash them, but, a moment later, decided against it and began to do it the Muggle way. It wasn't as if she had better things to do.

She was nearly finished when she heard the distinctive sound of someone arriving via Floo, and, without bothering to dry her hands, she ran to the living room, where Ron and Harry, both wearing serious and weary expressions on their faces, were brushing the ashes off their robes.

"What happened?" Ginny asked them. "We didn't expect you so soon. Didn't you question the prisoners?"

"No," answered Ron in an uncharacteristically sour and dejected tone.

"Why not?" asked Hermione, getting close to them and checking their bodies to make sure they were all right.

"Because they're dead," explained Harry.

"Dead?" repeated Mr Weasley, dumbfounded. "But — hadn't you caught them alive?"

"They were alive when we took them to the Ministry," said Ron, dropping onto the couch.

"When we were about to question them, they — they simply burst into flames. We were fortunate to survive. It was like cursed fire, or something like that."

"Personnel of the Department of Mysteries are going to analyse the bodies," added Ron. "We don't understand why that happened. I — I had never seen something like that."

Hermione sat down next to Ron, feeling a bit revolted and glad she hadn't had to see that after how sick it had made her just smelling Thydeen's body, and clutched his hand in hers. Her head was spinning, thinking about it all.

"Not even Voldemort cursed his followers this way," commented Ginny, horrified. "But why these two and not the others?"

Harry and Ron shrugged. "No idea," Harry answered.

"It didn't happen the moment you caught them, nor when they entered the Ministry," said Hermione thoughtfully. "What did exactly happen before they were set on fire?"

"I told them I was going to get Veritaserum to —" Ron stopped abruptly, his eyes opening wide as he exchanged a look with Hermione. "That was it," he said. "Veritaserum."

"Yes, I think so," nodded Hermione. "It makes perfect sense. We found out about the cave when the others were given Veritaserum. It is obvious that, whoever is behind this, didn't want that to happen again."

"So they put a curse on their followers, and they don't know about it?" asked Ginny, horrified. "How can they obey a — a person who does that?"

"I don't think they knew," Harry reckoned. "They would have fought harder if they knew they were under the risk of being burned alive. And before Ron mentioned Veritaserum, the woman was acting very defiantly."

"Then maybe this is a good thing," commented Ginny, and, when everyone stared at her in shock, she explained, "I mean, if word spreads of what happened, other followers could chicken out and give the Ministry information willingly."

"Or they will be even more savage and ready to fight to the death, knowing what might happen if they are captured," argued Hermione.

Ginny didn't know how to reply, so she stayed quiet.

"Anyway, there's nothing more to do. The Aurors on guard will keep the room and the bodies safe until morning. It's better if we go to bed."

"Yes, good idea," nodded Mr Weasley tiredly. "I'll tell Molly, Bill and Fleur that you're back."

"And I have to inform the others, too," remembered Hermione. "We already told them you were okay, but they'll want to know about this."

The five of them climbed up the stairs. Ron went into the bathroom, so, while she waited for him, she took out the enchanted parchment and wrote a brief note for the rest of the group.

"This is a complete nightmare," commented Ron a while later, when they were snuggled underneath the blankets. "That fire ... it was like the Fiendfyre Crabbe cast in the Room of Requirement, do you remember?"

"Yes," said Hermione, caressing his chest under his shirt with slow and soft strokes.

"The fire turned the table into soot in seconds, and the walls cracked and blackened. If we hadn't cast four Shield Charms, maybe we would be dead, too."

Hermione hugged Ron more tightly against her upon hearing this.

"We thought we had something, you know? That finally we would get more information..." Ron's voice faded out, and she heard him sigh. "One of them was younger than us, you know? A Ravenclaw. Julie recognised him."

"Ravenclaw?" said Hermione, raising her head to look at him. "That's odd."

"I know," he said, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. A moment later, he pressed her more against him and kissed her forehead. "I love you, Hermione. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Ron," she responded, resting her head on his warm body, and soon they were asleep.

— — o — —

The investigation led by Unspeakables of the Department of Mysteries didn't reveal anything. It was concluded that some powerful and strange magic had been used; though, what kind of curse it was, no one knew. The final agreement was that, probably, it had been a recently developed curse. The fact that someone was spending their time developing such terrible spells didn't do anything to improve the morale at the Ministry.

Harry and Ron had had to strengthen the charms protecting the Muggleborn houses in the country. Meanwhile, Moebius Dumbsey's roommates during his time at Hogwarts had been questioned, but it seemed that Moebius hadn't been a particularly friendly person at school. In fact, some of the people asked had declared that they had thought, at the time, that Dumbsey would have been better off in Slytherin. The only person he had been relatively close to was completely shocked to know that Dumbsey had become a Dark wizard, and had declared that he hadn't seen him in nearly three months. He had told them, though, that his parents lived in Belfast, but, as far as he knew, they weren't very close to their son, so maybe they would know even less than he.

On the other side, the investigation about Healer Gerrick had yielded the same results. His only living relative was his mother. When she had been questioned, she had said that he had visited her the weekend before the first attack and had told her he was going to move abroad, to Rome. Since then, she had not received any news about him, and was starting to get worried. Gerrick's house had been registered, but there was nothing there. The Italian Ministry had been contacted, but they knew nothing about him. He hadn't moved into the city, as far as they knew, and certainly was not working at their hospitals. Gerrick, it seemed, had vanished, but whether it was intentional or not was a mystery.

The lack of information didn't mean a lack of attacks, though. As weeks passed and Christmas got nearer, reports of Muggle killings had started to arrive from France, Ireland, Germany and Spain. At first, the Ministry had ignored them, leaving the ministries of those countries to deal with that. But, as more nasty events kept happening, it had become obvious that those incidents were related, and had, probably, the same source.

But the fact that the problem had acquired an international dimension now didn't mean that things had stopped happening in Britain. No, the attacks on Muggles had continued, though it hadn't been massacres like the one at the hotel. And attacks on Muggleborns kept happening. Fortunately, in none of the four attacks on Muggleborns had any of the targets been killed; but none of the Attackers had been captured, either, and another Auror had lost his life due to a well-aimed Killing Curse.

Fear was starting to grow again in the Wizarding world as it once had happened when they were at school, and that became evident to Hermione one day when Ginny and she had gone to Diagon Alley for a bit of Christmas shopping. The usually loud and crowded street, despite being watched by Aurors and members of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad, was almost deserted, and the few wizards and witches she saw walked quickly, throwing nervous glances everywhere, clearly afraid. The worst of it all was that no one knew what the organisation behind the attacks or that 'master' Mathery had told them about during his questioning wanted. It seemed that their only objective was to spread fear and terror, and, certainly, they were achieving that goal.

On Christmas morning, Hermione found herself looking at her reflection in the mirror Ron and she had put in his old room. She was just in her knickers, caressing her slightly protruding belly. She was now three months pregnant, and it was starting to become noticeable.

"If you're thinking you look fat, forget it," said Ron from the bed, stifling a yawn. "You look lovely and sexy as ever. Maybe even more."

"I wasn't thinking about that," said Hermione. "But thanks anyway."

"Are you feeling okay?" Ron asked, getting out of the bed and embracing her from behind, putting his hands over hers.

"Yes," Hermione nodded. "I'm so glad we don't have to work today and can spend the day together."

"Me too," Ron said, kissing her on her right shoulder and then leaving a trail of kisses towards her neck. "We've had very little time for us these last weeks."

"I know," she answered.

Ron pressed himself against her and Hermione could feel his hard cock against her arse.

"I want you," he said, and bit her neck softly.

Hermione spun around in his arms and kissed him long and hard.

"Don't you want to open your presents?" she asked him between kisses.

"I was hoping for a special one first," he replied, grinning mischievously.

Hermione didn't say anything more. She wanted him, too. They had had so little time for each other lately, and she needed to feel him, to have some sense of normality, to have him, absolutely and completely. So she began to leave a trail of kisses down his naked chest, while caressing his sides with her hands. She wasn't in the mood for something slow, though. She knew that soon the house would be bursting with activity, and she needed Ron and needed him right now, so she dropped onto her knees, lowered his pants, releasing his hard cock and engulfed it almost immediately.

"Hermione — Ah, fuck!"

Hermione began to suck in earnest, feeling an almost overwhelming hunger for him. One of her hands started to stroke his thighs, while the other went to his balls, cupping and kneading them.

"Merlin, Hermione," he moaned, and tangled his hands in her wild hair, while his hips started to buck slightly. "This is too good."

Hermione looked up, at Ron's face. His eyes were closed, and his face was contorted in pleasure. She wanted to see that expression on his face always, instead of the worry that had been filling it lately. She didn't let him come in her mouth often, in fact, it was very rare. It was something she didn't particularly like, and he had never asked for it, but right now, she wanted to do it; she wanted them both to get lost in the world of their pleasure and not think about anything else.

So she kept sucking, hard and fast, consumed by her own need and lust, until Ron, almost on the brink of orgasm, made her stop, took her in his arms and threw her on the bed before taking off her knickers hurriedly.

"Fuck, Hermione, I need you!"

"Me too, Ron. Make me yours. Now!"

However, Ron didn't plunge into her immediately, perhaps because he was too close to coming; instead, he buried his head between her legs and began to suck and lick her, fingering her with one hand while with the other kneaded her breasts, making her squirm on the bed.

"Oh, Ron, Ron, please, please, don't stop!"

Hermione was near heaven. The whole world was nothing except her and Ron making love in his childhood bed. She felt the pressure inside her growing, dragging her towards the inevitable explosion of pleasure.

"Ron, please, inside me. Fuck me now!"

A moment later, Ron's licking and sucking stopped. She opened her eyes, and saw Ron lying next to her. Then he took her in his arms and put her over him, his hands going to her hips.

"Ride me, Hermione. Ride me fast and hard."

Hermione moaned, and, raising her hips a bit, she impaled herself on his cock, causing new moans from both of them.

"Hermione, you feel so bloody good."

"You too, Ron, you too," Hermione moaned as she started to move up and down on his cock while she gyrated her hips.

They both were so close to the edge, so needy for each other, that it wouldn't take long for Hermione to reach her climax. Her movements became more frantic and desperate; she began to pant harder and moan louder, and, when Ron took her breasts in his hands and kneaded them a bit roughly, she came undone, her body trashing out of control above his.

"Oh, God, RON!" she yelled, enveloped in absolute bliss. Ron, sensing her orgasm, started to thrust upwards even more forcefully, prolonging the feeling, until she was completely exhausted and drained and fell above him, breathing heavily.

"Fuck, Hermione, you look so hot when you cum."

"Mmh ..." she said.

But Ron had not finished, and she knew it, so, a few seconds later, she moved off him and got onto her hands and knees, looking at him as seductively as she could.

"Come here, Ron. Come here and fuck me until you've come inside me."

"Merlin, Hermione..." he whispered huskily, getting behind her so quickly he could have Apparated. Hermione felt him grip her hips and caress her arse, and then she felt his cock entering her in one swift motion.

"Fuck, yes!" he shouted.

"Aah, Ron!"

Ron began to pound into her as hard as he could, his hips slamming against the round globes of her arse. She felt the grip of his hands on her hips get tighter, and knew he was close.

"Fuck, Hermione, love, I'm — I'm cumming! I'm cumming! FUCK, YESSSS!" he hissed, thrusting into her as deep as he could and coming hard.

A few moments later, both of them fell on the bed, together, panting and sweaty but with big smiles on their faces.

"That was amazing, Ron."

"Bloody brilliant," he added, giving her a loving kiss.

Hermione closed her eyes and sighed contentedly. "I think we should go downstairs, but right now I don't want to move."

"Me neither," said Ron. "I love you, Hermione."

She smiled dreamily at him. "I love you too."

They lay there for a few minutes, enjoying the afterglow of their lovemaking, until the house became too noisy and they knew they had to get up. So, a bit reluctantly, they got dressed and went downstairs, to the already crowded kitchen.

"It was time, you two," Mrs Weasley greeted them. "We were waiting to open the presents!"

"Sorry," said Hermione, trying not to blush.

"Surely it was Ron's fault," said Ginny with a smirk. "Probably took Hermione ten minutes to wake him up."

"Shut up, Ginny!" said Ron, glaring at her, while he began to put eggs and bacon on his plate. "If you want to know, I've been awake for a while," he stated. "Wasn't I, Hermione?" he added, looking at her.

"Yes — yes, you were," confirmed Hermione, trying to avoid direct contact with any eyes. However, her mother caught her gaze and she grinned slightly. Hermione tried not to blush.

After breakfast, they went to the living room to open the presents. They were still opening boxes and parcels and saying thank you to one another when the fire turned green and Andromeda Tonks and Teddy came out of it. Hermione saw Harry's face light up at the sight of his godson.

"Daddy!" Teddy yelled, running into Harry's arms. He knew that Harry was not really his father, but he had grown accustomed to calling him 'daddy' and Harry didn't mind in the slightest.

"Hey, big boy!" Harry said, lifting him into the air. "How are you?"

"I brought a gift for you, Daddy!"

"You did?"

Teddy gave Harry a little package that contained a bottle of cologne. Harry opened it, sniffed its contents and smiled. "It smells fantastic! Thank you, Teddy," he added, kissing him on the cheek. "I have a present for you, too. Do you want to open it?"

"Yes!"

"There you go," said Ginny, giving him their present: a toy broomstick. Upon seeing it, Teddy's eyes became the size of saucers.

"Thanks, Daddy, Mummy Ginny!" Teddy yelled, utterly happy.

"You're welcome," said Harry. "Just be careful, okay?"

Andromeda didn't let Teddy use the broomstick in the crowded house, however, so, after pouting for a bit and still not getting permission, he began to play with Victoire in one corner.

Percy and Audrey and Angelina and George came for lunch. As there were so many people there, Mr Weasley and Bill put an Enlargement Charm on the living room, vanished the sofas and armchairs and conjured a table to transform the room into a dining room.

After a delicious meal that resembled those of happier times, though not completely, Neville and Hannah came for a visit, as did Luna and Julie.

Bill and Mr Weasley turned the living room back into what it was before, vanishing the table and making the couch and armchairs reappear, though without lifting the Enlargement Charm. Some people moved to the kitchen, others sat on the couch and the eight friends gathered around a conjured table in a corner to talk.

"Has anything odd happened at Hogwarts?" Harry asked Neville after less serious conversations about what had been happening in their lives.

"No," he answered, shaking his head. "Nothing at all. The professors have been watching the students pretty closely, but, apart from the whispers and fear that you can see everywhere, especially when more bad news appears in the _Prophet_, there's nothing."

"Have you seen anything strange in the pub, Hannah?" Ron asked then.

"No," said Hannah a bit gloomily. "The only thing I've noticed is that there are fewer clients than usual. I'm having a really bad month. But it's happening everywhere, so ..."

"Tell me about it," said George, who had heard their talk. "Our sales have decreased, despite being Christmas."

"I really don't get this," piped in Julie, frustrated. "We are looking everywhere, sharing information with the other countries affected by this, and nothing! And the worst thing is that no one has demanded anything! What do they want? At least, when You-Know-Who —"

"Voldemort," said Harry and Hermione at the same time.

"Yeah, well, Voldemort. When he was the enemy, at least we knew what he wanted."

"Well, according to what those men told Hermione, this new group wants the same, don't they?" interjected Ginny.

"I'm not so sure," said Harry. "In France they killed that family of purebloods. And besides, Fleur always tells us that there, this thing about blood purity was never important except to very few people."

"Then what do they want?" asked Ron. "Just to cause fear? What for?"

"And there's the case of Hermione's file and the interest they expressed in Ron's and her baby."

"I don't know," responded Harry. "I don't know."

"Speaking of that," said Neville. "Did you find anything in the Hall of Prophecy? Weren't you going to look there?"

"We did, but, apparently, there's nothing," answered Hermione.

"Don't you have any theory, Luna?" asked Ron. "Right now, I'd pay even for the most random idea."

Hermione stomped her foot onto Ron's to scold him, making him yelp, but Luna didn't get offended at all.

"No," she said. "Dad and I have talked about it, but —"

BOOM!

The entire house shook from top to bottom. At once, everyone got to their feet and drew their wands, except Bill and Fleur, who grabbed Dominique and Victoire; Andromeda, who grabbed Teddy; and Mrs Weasley, who grabbed James. "Use the Floo and take the children to Grimmauld Place," ordered Harry. "It is ready to be used. We'll take care of this."

They did as told, with Bill and Fleur asking the Grangers to take Victoire and Dominique. Meanwhile, the others ran towards the windows and looked out of them. Through the curtain of rain, Hermione saw flashes and streaks of light hit the barrier that surrounded and protected The Burrow.

"It seems that there is more than one out there," said Angelina, fear evident in her voice.

"Percy, call the Ministry for reinforcements," ordered Harry. "The rest, get ready. We're going to fight them."

"We already are," muttered George, his face serious, his eyes filled with determination.

"Shield Charms ready," said Harry, opening the door. "Let's go!"

Wands aloft, they exited the house and ran, under the rain, towards the fence.

Hermione cast a spell around herself so the rain wouldn't touch her. It was freezing cold, and, being pregnant, that was not what she needed.

On the other side of the fence and the protective charms, six cloaked figures were throwing hexes and curses towards them, but all the spells were being deflected or absorbed by the charm that surrounded them.

"STOP!" yelled Harry, pointing his wand at them. "Your spells can't touch us, but ours can reach you!"

The six wizards or witches stopped at once, but didn't lower their wands.

"This is my house!" yelled Mr Weasley, moving a few steps forward. "What do you want?"

Through the sound of the rain and the wind came the answer, from one of the cloaked figures, who, like Mr Weasley, had moved a few steps forward.

"You are our enemies." The voice belonged to a woman, but it was horribly distorted, as if its owner didn't want to be recognised. "Arthur Weasley, you're friend of Muggles and Muggleborns, you have Aurors under your roof, as well as members of a group that seek to destroy us!"

Hermione felt her blood run cold inside her veins. How did they know about their secret group?

"There's no secret group!" yelled Harry. "We're just family and friends spending Christmas together!"

"I assume you don't have families, if you're here instead of being with them!" added Ron, furious.

"Don't treat us as stupid, Harry Potter!" the woman replied, ignoring Ron completely. "Our master knows! We are well aware that you've reunited some members of what you used to call 'Dumbledore's Army' during the other war. But that won't make any difference now!"

"What do you want?" Harry asked, trying to mask his frustration with fury.

"We want to deliver a message from our master," the woman answered. "Leave us alone. There's no way you can stop us. Things have changed since last time."

"Leave you alone?" replied Ron, shaking with fury. "You attacked my wife! You stole her medical file from St Mungo's! What for? What do you want? Where is Rowan Gerrick? Is he among you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," the woman answered. "And even if I did, I wouldn't tell you anything. I repeat the order: leave us alone."

"How dare you defy a Ministry official this way?" bellowed Percy. "There's no way the Ministry will let you break the law without consequences!"

"Then more people will die!" the woman said.

"What the hell does your master want?" asked Ron. "Answer!"

The woman just laughed.

"I wouldn't laugh if I were you," shouted Julie angrily. "Sooner or later we'll catch you, and when you're rotting away in Azkaban you'll curse your master's name. That is, if you make it without being burnt alive!"

"You won't catch us," the woman said defiantly, this time without laughing.

"We'll see," Hermione heard Harry say. "ATTACK!"

At once, thirteen Stunning Spells burst from the wands and soared towards the Attackers. However, they cast strong Shield charms that protected them.

A moment later, a few 'pops!' could be heard, and five or six more Aurors appeared just behind the Attackers, startling and surprising them, and a full battle commenced. The defenders of The Burrow moved towards the Attackers, who had started to use terrible curses and spells and seemed ready to fight to the death, probably knowing what would happen if they were captured.

Hermione, however, didn't follow the others outside the area covered by the protection charms. The image of her protruding belly was burnt in her mind, and she knew she couldn't risk her daughter's life, especially when she knew that the mysterious leader of this group was so interested in her. She kept firing spells, though, and noticed that, near her, Audrey had not made an attempt to leave the protected area, either. She was fighting, too, her eyes focused on Percy, and Hermione couldn't help but notice how her left hand was over her belly in a gesture she knew too well.

"Audrey ...!" she gasped, drawing the other girl's attention. "You — you are ..." Her voice tailed away.

"We were going to announce it tonight," Audrey answered, firing a new spell that missed one of the Attackers by a few inches.

Another life. Another member of their family was coming, and they had to protect him. Furrowing her brow in concentration, she focused on the battle once more. The Attackers were outnumbered, but they were among their enemies and were using their fear of accidentally harming their own family or friends to their advantage. They, on the other hand, seemed not to care who they hurt, and were using Killing and Blasting curses randomly.

At some point, one of the Attackers cast a powerful Exploding Spell that opened a wide crater in the ground, throwing mud in every direction and making Mr Weasley, Angelina and one of the Aurors fall on their backs rather hard. Exhilarated by what he had done, the Attacker laughed madly and let out a cry of victory, but that moment of distraction cost him too much, and barely a moment later, three Stunning Spells, cast by Ron, Neville and Ginny hit him, throwing him backwards and making him fall with a loud thud on the wet ground.

Hermione managed to hit another of the Attackers with a Blinding Jinx, but, far from rendering him unable to fight, he began to shoot Killing Curses left and right, not caring who was in their way, so some of the fighters — even one of their own companions — had to dodge them to avoid being killed.

Finally, Harry and George hit him with a Stunning Spell and an _Impedimenta_ Jinx, leaving him unconscious on the floor. The rest of the Attackers, however, seeing that they were losing, renewed their efforts, casting nastier and more powerful curses, resulting in Hannah, another Auror — who Hermione recognised as Artemius Pye — and George falling to the ground injured.

However, the defenders managed to surround the Attackers, and they, desperate, threw four strong Blasting Curses around them, which forced the others to cast Shield Charms to protect themselves, and Disapparated.

The defenders looked all around, still wary, but, after a few seconds, they approached the fallen to make sure they were all right.

"Let's move them into the protected area!" yelled Harry. "Come on!"

Quickly, while Harry, Ron, Julie, Bill, Fleur and another Auror looked around, their wands ready, Ginny, Neville, Hermione, Audrey, Luna and Percy used their own to drag their six unconscious and wounded friends into The Burrow.

"Let's move this scum too," said Justin Finch-Fletchley, trying to wipe away the drops of water running down his face with his wet sleeve. He moved towards one of the Attackers and bound them with a magical rope. Another Auror moved to do the same to the other fallen foe.

"Bring them in," said Harry, lowering his wand and crossing the boundaries with Julie. "We'll take them to the —"

Harry couldn't say anything more, because four 'pops!' sounded at once, and the four Attackers that barely a minute ago had fled Apparated once more, two near each of the fallen. No one had time to react, and, before they could do anything, Justin and the other Auror had dropped to the ground, unconscious. The Attackers grabbed their arms and those of their companions, trying to Disapparate with them. Three of them managed to do it, but the fourth, who was clutching the arm of the Attacker that had blasted Mr Weasley, Angelina and the Auror, was forced to release him to avoid being hit by a powerful curse cast by Julie. Swearing loudly and revealing that he was male, the wizard tried to grab his companion once more, but it was too late: several spells were being thrown at him, and, unable to fulfil his mission, he Disapparated alone.

"FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!" swore Harry, kicking a stone with his feet in rage.

"JUSTIN! SAMUEL!" Julie was yelling, running towards the point where the Aurors had been abducted.

"DON'T!" yelled Ron, running after her and stopping her before she could exit the protected area.

Harry, still swearing, used his wand to lift the body of the unconscious attacker off the ground and move it within The Burrow's wards. Ron released Julie, and, using his wand, bound him. Then, as dominated by a sudden impulse, he hit him on the ribs. Hermione could hear the sound of bones cracking, but the idea of scolding Ron for what he had done only lasted a fraction of a second. Kicking an unconscious person was not right, but, in that moment, Hermione understood perfectly Ron's anger and frustration, because she was feeling it herself. These monsters had attacked their family home on Christmas, had injured some of her friends and relatives, and had kidnapped two people: one of them a good friend of hers...

Oh, Merlin!

The weight of what had just happened fell on her suddenly, and she staggered in the wet garden. Two Aurors had been abducted, and only Merlin knew what those bastards were going to do to them.

"Take — take the injured inside," said Harry. "Are ... are they okay?" he asked. His eyes seemed empty, and he looked lost and defeated. Seeing him like that brought a sudden dread upon Hermione. Harry hadn't looked that way since those days when they were on the Horcrux hunt, Ron had walked out on them and all hope seemed lost.

"They'll be fine," Fleur said, checking on Angelina.

"We have to go to the Ministry," said Ron, who, contrarily to Harry, seemed frantic. "We have to organise a search and find them, before it's too late!"

"Yes, you're right, you're right," nodded Harry, and the prospect of something to do seemed to draw him out of his stupor. "We have spells to locate any Auror, let's move and use them!"

Everyone hurried into The Burrow.

"Ginny, call Mum and the others at Grimmauld Place," said Ron. "Fleur and she are the best at healing spells. Who else is good at them, besides Hermione?"

Luna raised her hand.

"Take care of the injured, then," he continued. "Julie," he added, looking at her. "Go to the Ministry and bring as many Aurors as you can. Drag them out of their living rooms if necessary. We'll begin the search here."

"Why here?" asked Audrey. "Won't it be easier if you go to the Ministry?"

"These tracking spells work better if they're used in a place where the missing Auror has been recently," explained Harry.

Fleur, Hermione and Luna got to work, treating those whose injuries were worse — the ones affected by the explosion — while Harry, Ron and the other two Aurors, with the help of Bill, started to work on the Locator Spell. They were joined by Neville as soon as he was reassured by Hermione that Hannah would be all right. Just a few seconds later, Ginny came out of the fireplace with a swoosh, followed by an anxious-looking Mrs Weasley.

"ARTHUR! GEORGE!" she yelled upon seeing her husband and son, and Hermione felt a pain in her very soul at the anguish in her voice.

"They're going to be all right, Molly," she said, wanting to comfort her. "They'll be all right."

"When is this going to end?" she asked to no one. She sniffed, shook her head as brushing off a bad thought, and, with a trembling hand, took out her wand and began to work.

While she cast some healing charms on Hannah — her wounds were not severe — Hermione saw Ron put a map of the British Isles on a table. A moment later, the four Aurors and Neville began to recite the incantation.

Hermione laid her eyes back on Hannah when she heard her moan and stir, and a moment later the girl opened her eyes, blinking a few times in confusion.

"Hermione, what —?"

"You are all right, don't worry," Hermione assured her. "You were wounded, but I've healed you."

"Neville ...?"

"He's okay; he's here," Hermione answered, nodding towards the group of Aurors.

A new swoosh in the fireplace announced the arrival of the Grangers and Andromeda, who brought Victoire, Teddy, Dominique and James with them.

"Hermione!" shouted her mother when she saw her. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Mum," Hermione said.

"What happened?" her father asked, looking at the injured with a horrified expression on his face. "Can we help?"

"Can you put some bandages on Angelina and zat man?" Fleur asked him.

"Of course," Hermione's father said. Smiling at him, Fleur Conjured the needed materials and the Grangers began to work.

"Nothing!" shouted then one of the Aurors, clearly angry and frustrated. "Why does this bloody spell not work?"

"I don't know; maybe it needs more time," said Harry.

"What if they are in an unplottable place?" asked Ron. "Would it work?"

"I don't know," said Harry.

"No, it probably wouldn't," said Hermione, looking at them. "Of course, it would depend on the Locator Spell and the Unplottable Charm, as, technically, you are marking on the map the location of a person, not a place. But with really strong Unplottable or Concealment charms, it probably won't work."

"But the Death Eaters were able to know we were in Grimmauld Place, all those years ago," replied Ron. "Just because you used Voldemort's name. And weren't we under a _Fidelius_ Charm? That's the strongest Unplottable Charm, isn't it?"

"It is, but the Taboo Jinx was not a Locator Spell," explained Hermione. "It was another completely different kind of magic. And still, they weren't able to see the house."

"Anyway, we don't have anything else, so we better keep trying."

"What happened?" asked Mrs Weasley. "Who are you trying to locate?"

"The Attackers took two Aurors hostage," answered Ginny. "They —"

Ginny was interrupted by a very loud crack near the front door. At once, everyone in the room turned towards it, their wands ready.

Harry and Ron ran towards one of the windows and looked out of it.

"I don't see anyone," said Ron.

"What are those two shapes on the ground?" asked Harry.

"Where? Ah, yeah, I see them," said Ron. "I don't know. They weren't there before."

Bill approached the door and opened it carefully. After being sure there was no danger outside, he stepped out, Harry, Ron, Neville and the other two Aurors at his heels. The others moved so they could see what was happening, and Hermione watched them, her heart beating rapidly, approach the two shapes Harry had mentioned.

"Oh, Merlin! Oh, for heaven's sake!" Bill shouted, his voice filled with horror.

"Bloody hell!" bellowed Ron.

"Those bastards!" yelled another of the Aurors.

Hermione, followed by Ginny, went out and approached the group, curious but wary. She reached them and looked.

They were Justin and the other Auror, the one Julie had called Samuel. They were inside what looked like open body bags ... and dead.

Dead, and so horribly mutilated they were barely recognisable.

Unable to stand the gory gift the Attackers had sent them, Hermione turned round, suppressed her desire to cry, and vomited.

* * *

_Yeah, another nasty ending ... These Attackers are terribly cruel._

_Anyway, now I'm off to the beach, we're burning here in Spain. And you would make me very happy if when I come back I find a lot of reviews._

_Next chapter, next week. Around Thursday, I suppose. Enjoy your week!  
_


	11. Save Those Whom You Love

_Half my holidays are already gone, and it's time for another chapter, so read!_

_As always, many thanks to __**Kathy**__for her help. Hope you are enjoying your holidays!_

* * *

**PART I**

**TALES OF NEW MYSTERIES**

_**Chapter 11**_

**Save Those Whom You Love**

* * *

Hermione closed her eyes, trying to compose herself, and felt someone help her to stay on her feet. When she opened her eyes, she saw it was Ginny.

"Are you okay, Hermione?"

Hermione nodded, trying to banish from her mind the images of those bodies. Merlin, she knew Justin since they were twelve! They had been together in the DA, had shared a desk in Potions, had fought side by side in the Battle of Hogwarts ... And those people, those ... monsters had destroyed his body, giving him a horrible death.

That was the end of Christmas Day. Ron, Harry, Julie and the other Aurors had to go back to the Ministry to prepare a report and make sure that Justin Finch-Fletchley and Samuel Cornerstuck's bodies were delivered to their families. Hermione went to the office, too, knowing that there would be a lot of work to do.

The air in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was gloomy and highly depressing. Hermione had seen Blevelty for a moment, and he looked defeated and very old. His appearance had made Hermione wonder whether he knew what to do or even whether he was able to handle the pressure of the situation, which seemed to be overwhelming him.

It was almost ten in the evening when the three friends finally headed home, looking sad and extremely tired. At The Burrow, Mr Weasley, who was completely healed, had informed them that he and Bill had spent the whole evening making the enchantments around The Burrow even stronger.

Neither Harry nor Ron wanted to talk about how telling the families of Justin and Samuel what had happened had gone, so, instead, George asked if they had found out something of value from the interrogation of the captured man.

"Nothing," said Ron, his face denoting deep irritation. "He won't speak, and nobody wants to use Veritaserum on him, in case it sets him ablaze. He will be examined tomorrow, to try and discover what kind of curse was used on the previous prisoners, and whether someone cast it on him or not. If we can break it, maybe we will be able to interrogate him and understand what the hell is going on."

"This is an absolute nightmare," commented Harry. "I don't know what to do. Nobody knows what to do."

"What about people suspected of being Death Eaters that didn't go to prison?" asked Bill.

"Some of them are being followed, but that line of investigation didn't lead us anywhere. None of the members of this organisation we've captured so far were involved in the other war," Harry answered. "The one we caught today is called Arnold Cottage. He's just 22, which was too young back then."

"Kingsley is going mad, too," commented Mr Weasley. "He seems lost, and doesn't know how to face this."

Silence fell over the room. No one seemed to know what to say.

After a few minutes, Audrey made a sound, as though wanting to draw everyone's attention. She threw a glance at Percy, who nodded, and she began to talk.

"I have an announcement to make," she started. "I know this may not be the best moment. Surely it isn't how we've imagined it, but we — Percy and I, I mean — wanted to tell you that —"

"THANK MERLIN! Oh, Percy, Audrey!" shouted Mrs Weasley in surprise and delight, startling everyone in the room. Hermione looked at her, and saw that her eyes were shimmering with joy. "_Really?_"

"Yes, mother," said Percy nodding. "Audrey's pregnant."

"Oh, dear!" screamed Mrs Weasley. Then she stood up, ran towards them and hugged them both tightly. "This is wonderful news! Another grandchild, Arthur!" she added, turning her head and looking at her husband.

"Yes, yes," said Mr Weasley, who seemed a bit dumbfounded but also very pleased. "It is really wonderful. Congratulations!"

"Brilliant," commented Ron, his sad expression turning into a grin.

"Congratulations, Audrey!" said Fleur, hugging and kissing her sister-in-law.

"I think a toast is in order," said Bill, using his wand to summon some bottles of firewhiskey and wine and several cups, while Percy and Audrey continued to be hugged and congratulated by everyone in the room.

"What happened, Mummy?" asked Victoire, walking into the kitchen from the living room, where she had been playing with her gifts.

"Oh, Victoire!" said Fleur happily, taking her daughter in her arms. "Your auntie Audrey is going to be a mummy! You're going to 'ave another cousin!"

Victoire blinked a few times, and then looked at Audrey. "Is true?"

"Yes, sweetheart," said Audrey. Fleur sat her on her right leg, holding her with one arm and Victoire grinned at her aunt.

"Is it going to be a girl?"

"I don't know."

"I hope it is," Victoire said.

Percy began to pour drinks for everyone. Hermione and Audrey, being pregnant, settled for just a sip of wine, but everyone else chose Firewhiskey.

"For Audrey and Percy, and the new member of our family!" said Mr Weasley, raising his glass.

"For Audrey, Percy and their child!" everyone repeated, while toasting their glasses, and then they drank.

"It is wonderful, don't you think?" Hermione asked Ron while they got ready to get in bed, half an hour later. Ron looked at her, a bit puzzled. "That Audrey and Percy are going to have a child, I mean," she explained. "Our daughter will have a cousin of the same age."

"Yeah, it is wonderful," Ron said, though his tone wasn't exactly cheerful, and got under the blankets. "The only good news today."

Hermione's slight happiness vanished as if by magic. "It — it seems so hard to believe," she stammered, joining Ron in the bed and letting him embrace her. "I mean, he was with us in the DA..."

"I saw him almost every day," said Ron. "Fuck, he and Samuel are the third and fourth Auror who have died since this nightmare began. If things keep going at this rate —"

"DON'T!" yelled Hermione, feeling a dreadful sense of fear envelope her. "Please, don't say that."

"We can't bury our heads in the sand and ignore the truth, Hermione."

"I know," she said, and embraced him more tightly, snuggling into his warmth. "But please, don't say it. I worry enough already."

"I worry, too," he said, sighing. "All the time."

Hermione rested her head on Ron's chest, thinking about what had happened today, and, especially, about why. Why did Justin and Samuel have to die?

She fell asleep without an answer.

The next days proved that answers to other questions were equally elusive. The tests performed on Arnold Cottage didn't yield any result of value, so nobody could interrogate him. Hermione had seen him, and could tell that the man was terrified by the prospect of being burnt alive. But he also feared what could happen if he talked, so he had shut his mouth and had refused to speak at all.

This, of course, was a cause of anger and frustration to a lot of people. Pyllus Pamwyck, Head of the Department, had suggested in a meeting to tell him they were going to get answers "one way or another," believing that such a threat would make him talk. After all, he had reasoned, he might be afraid of what could happen if he talked, but was sure of what would happen if the Ministry used Veritaserum on him.

Some people had agreed with him, saying that it was time to take some drastic measures, but Kingsley had forbid them to do such a thing, stating that he had sought to change the ways of the Ministry, and that he would never use torture to get information. Besides, no one knew what could happen if they made such a threat, even without mentioning Veritaserum. The curse might be activated by the simple realisation that they were going to be given Veritaserum or forced to talk.

"We don't even know whether he's cursed or not!" had replied Pamwyck, but Kingsley hadn't change his opinion, and Hermione agreed with him.

At the impossibility of getting any useful information from him, Cottage had been judged three days after New Year and sent to Azkaban for life.

Hermione had frequently wondered what kind of magic could cause a person to be burnt alive that way, and had done some research on the subject. There were ways to kill people when they didn't do what was expected of them — the Unbreakable Vow was the most powerful — but it required the subject to agree to it; it was their own commitment to do something and their failure was what activated the magic, and it only killed the subject. Hermione doubted any of the members of this organisation had consciously accepted to be put under such a curse, and Harry and Ron were of the same opinion. So the curse had to be put without their consent, or even their knowledge. And such magic _should_ leave a trace. The Ministry had sought the advice of Hogwarts' teachers on the matter, and both Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall had stated that, according to everything they knew about magic, there had to be some vestige of the magic used.

Many people had used this as a reason to state that Cottage was not really under the curse, and that he should be given the potion, but still Kingsley hadn't wanted to take the risk. That had led to some people saying that maybe Kingsley didn't have what 'was needed' to be Minister during such dark times, and that he was too soft to apply the methods that should be applied. The press hadn't been praising him either. Some people had stated, in the _Prophet_, that Kingsley should care more about the lives of the citizens, Muggle and Wizarding alike, than about the lives of proven-guilty dark wizards.

Kingsley, however, didn't seem to care about those comments. He had declared that, if the Wizarding world believed that another minister would do the job better than he, then he would step aside; but, as long as he was minister, he wouldn't resort to those wrong ways used in the past.

People, however, seemed to believe that he was doing a good job, or, at least, everything he could. After all, none of the attacked families had been murdered so far. It was true that Muggles had died, but everyone knew that the Muggle population was too numerous, and it was impossible for the Ministry to protect all of them. Besides, five members of that organisation were in prison and another two had died. That was much more than what other countries had managed to accomplish.

As January went by, attacks on two more families occurred, though, again, the set of protection charms designed by Harry and Ron, strengthened with the help of Hermione and Bill, had worked. The Attackers had been, once more, thwarted, though a wizard called John Britham, Muggleborn and most surely the main target of the attack, had lost an arm because of a curse.

Hermione was thinking about all this, as she often did, while she walked towards the only Apparition point in St Mungo's, during the last week of January. She had gone for a routine test with Healer Adder, to check the state of her pregnancy. Ron hadn't been able to accompany her this time. Adder had told her everything was all right, but that she should work less and not stress herself. But how could she not stress, when they still didn't know what had happened to her file? And the Aurors hadn't found any clue about Healer Gerrick's whereabouts, either.

After nodding to the Auror watching the Apparition point, she turned on the spot and Apparated into the Leaky Cauldron, which was, as it often happened these days, too empty, especially for lunchtime. Only five customers were there: a family of three that were sitting at a table and two old wizards that were talking in whispers at the bar.

"Hi, Hannah," Hermione greeted the blonde girl, who was writing something on a piece of parchment.

"Good morning, Hermione," she responded, and smiled at her. "Do you want something?"

"Not now," Hermione answered, getting closer to the bar. "I've just come from St Mungo's, and now I'm heading for George's shop. Ron will meet me there and we'll come here for lunch. Is that all right?"

"More than all right," said Hannah, and then, after exhaling a sigh, she said, in a lower tone, "As you see, I'm not precisely busy."

"Yeah, I've noticed," nodded Hermione. "Well, see you later, okay?"

Hannah nodded and went back to her parchment, and Hermione left through the door that led to Diagon Alley.

The street was relatively crowded, maybe because the weather was rather good for January, and after all, no one had attacked anyone there. However, Hermione noticed that everyone looked wary, and no one lingered too long anywhere.

Hermione walked quickly towards Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. The shop was empty, only George was behind the counter, reading a magazine. He lifted his head when he heard the door open and smiled at her.

"Hey, sister-in-law," he greeted her. "What do I owe the pleasure?"

"I had an appointment at St Mungo's and Ron will meet me here; we're going to have lunch together," Hermione explained, and closed the door, thankful for the warmth inside. She rubbed her hands together to warm them and walked towards the counter.

"Auntie Hermione!" yelled someone suddenly, startling her. She turned her head to the right, and beamed when she was it had been Teddy who had called her.

"Teddy! What are you doing here?" she asked, crouching down and taking him in her arms.

"Gran had something to do," explained Teddy. "And Uncle George told her I could stay here. And he let me play with a lot of things!" he added brightly.

"Andromeda came and asked me if I could watch him for a while, because she had some errands to run," explained George, smiling. "I was pleased, because I've been very bored all morning. Just a few deliveries and two or three customers. Normal, of course, it's always like this after Christmas. But we had some fun, eh, Teddy?" he added, smiling mischievously at the little boy.

"Yes!" Teddy nodded.

George's grin widened and he looked at Hermione. "Percy is coming, too," he said. "We're getting lunch together. Maybe we could join you and Ron?"

"Of course," said Hermione.

She and George watched Teddy play for a few minutes, smiling at his delight (which was clearly discernible by the way his hair had turned bright red) until the door opened once more and Percy walked in.

"Good morning, George, Hermione."

"Hi, Perce," said George, greeting him. "Look, Hermione tells me she and Ron are going to have lunch at the Leaky Cauldron, too. Do you mind if we wait for him? That way the four of us can have lunch together."

"And what about Teddy?"

"Andromeda should be already here to pick Teddy any moment."

Percy checked his wristwatch and frowned. "Okay," he said, a bit reluctantly, "but he'd better be here quickly! I have loads of work to do. I don't even know how you managed to convince me to come." He looked at Hermione. "You had an appointment at St Mungo's, didn't you?" he asked, and she nodded. "How was it?"

"Everything's all right," answered Hermione.

"Good," Percy said, and began to look around him at the shelves. "Do you have anything here that is educational or simply not dangerous?" he asked George.

"And what's the fun in that?" George replied. Percy scoffed, and George laughed. "Look on that shelf," he said, pointing towards one of the corners. "You may find it useful."

Percy did as told and took a little toy in the shape of a hippogriff that was on display. He turned it around, a bit perplexed. "Hippogriff Watches," he read on the label. "What's this?"

"A toy," said George. "It makes noise and moves its wings, so children like them, but the really useful thing is that they can be attached to a child, so they don't get lost, and they have a tracking device, so you can always know where he or she is."

"Really?" asked Hermione, looking at him, a bit impressed.

"Yeah," nodded George. "Lee's idea," he explained. "I would never have come out with something so boring, but he has a niece that always manages to get lost in the house or the garden and drives his parents mad. That gave him the idea." He shrugged. "They've been on sale just for five months, but we've already sold a lot."

Percy shook his head disapprovingly. "How irresponsible can you be to not know where —?"

But Percy couldn't finish his sentence, because in that moment several people screamed in the street. At once, Percy, George and Hermione wheeled around to look at the windows. Hermione saw three cloaked figures there, and, just a second later, there was an explosion and one of the windows broke, sending pieces of glass everywhere.

"TED!" yelled Hermione. "Teddy!" she looked around, frantic, and saw him sitting on the floor, leaning against the counter and looking terrified.

"You stay here with him!" George told her, while he and Percy ran towards the exit, wands out and ready to fight the attackers.

"I can help!" Hermione yelled.

"Ron will kill us if he finds out we let you go out there, being pregnant and all that!" argued George. "And someone has to take care of Teddy!"

Hermione nodded, and Percy and George exited the shop. She cast a Shield Charm on Teddy, and ordered him to stay hidden.

Outside the shop, in the street, a full battle had started. Hermione could see the spells and curses fly and the fighters move, trying to dodge the spells aimed at them while casting their own. Most of the people had run away, and the fighters — the Attackers, at least one Auror and some people that, like George and Percy, had decided to help — had the entire street for themselves. Hermione heard a new explosion, just in front of a closed shop, and the noise of more glass shattering to pieces. One of the Aurors patrolling the alley was running towards the battle zone, throwing spells as he ran, but someone shot a curse at him and he had to throw himself to the side to avoid it.

_They need help_, thought Hermione. And then, smacking her head and cursing herself for her stupidity, she took her wand and sent her Patronus to Ron and Harry.

The shop's door was opened forcibly, and Hermione pointed her wand at it, ready to curse any Attacker that might try to get in, but then she saw it had been Andromeda who had opened it and relaxed a bit.

"Hermione!" she yelled, completely frightened. "Teddy! Is Teddy —?"

"He's fine, I have him here!"

"Thank Merlin!"

"Stay with him," said Hermione. "I'm going to help!" she declared, hurrying towards the door.

"No, Hermione, you're pregnant. You shouldn't —!"

But Hermione didn't pay her any attention. She stopped at the doorway and looked around to see how things were.

Apparently, four Attackers had come. Three of them were fighting from the entrance to Knockturn Alley, and the other was hidden behind a corner on the other side of the street. Hermione knew that two Aurors were assigned to Diagon Alley, but the Attackers seemed to have taken one of them by surprise, because he was lying on the floor, dead or — Hermione hoped — unconscious. Besides the other Auror, Percy and George were fighting, as were Parvati and Lavender, from their shop; and another witch Hermione didn't know.

Before starting to fight with the others, Hermione laid her eyes on another body lying haphazardly on the ground. It was a middle-aged man, and his eyes were vacant and glassy. He was dead. He didn't look like an Auror or a fighter, and Hermione reckoned, sadly, that he probably had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Pointing her wand at the Attacker hidden behind a corner, she cast a powerful spell at him. The wall of the building exploded, and the Attacker jumped backwards, trying to avoid the explosion and the pieces of stone flying in every direction. But, almost immediately, the Auror shot a spell at them, and the Attacker was blasted backwards, hit the walls of Gringotts with his head rather violently and dropped to the ground.

The other three threw a combined attack, and Hermione had to protect herself inside the shop, because pieces of glass, wood and stone were flying everywhere. When the air cleared a bit, she moved quickly, trying to see them through the dust, so she could render them harmless before they could do anything else.

With a quick glance around her, she saw that Parvati and Lavender had also hid in their shop, whose front side was now practically destroyed. George and Percy were crouched down a few yards away from her, protected by a Shield Charm and covered in dust; except for a few scratches on their faces, they seemed to be all right.

Hermione saw one of the Attackers lurking in the entrance to Diagon Alley move, and she shot a curse at them, but they Disapparated, effectively avoiding the spell, so Hermione pointed her wand at the one near Gringotts, who had just deflected a spell thrown by George. Hermione was about to cast her own spell when she heard Percy yell, "Hermione, move!" A moment later, she was pushed to one side, and a curse that would have hit her soared past them and got lost in the air. Hermione turned to her right, and saw that the curse had been cast by the Attacker, who had previously Disapparated and was now behind them. She was going to thank Percy when a new curse cast by the Attacker hit him squarely in the chest and he crumpled onto the ground, unconscious, a bit of blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth.

"PERCY!"

She shot a Stunning Spell towards the Attacker, but he deflected it easily and began to run towards them. And in that moment Hermione realised she could hear people yelling and giving orders, and knew that the Aurors had arrived. She saw three of them speeding towards them from the entrance of the alley and heard even more from Knockturn Alley and other places.

The Attacker had almost reached them, and Hermione threw a new spell at them. It hit them on their left thigh, and, with a yell, they fell next to Percy.

"GRAB HIM! GRAB HIM AND LET'S GO!" yelled the Attacker near Gringotts, who was trying to defend himself from several attacks.

Feeling a horrible sense of dread, Hermione looked towards the fallen Attacker, but, before she could even move, they grabbed Percy's hand and Disapparated.

"NO!" Hermione yelled, scared beyond reason. "NO! PERCY!" From the corner of her eye, she saw the other attacker Disapparate, too. For a brief moment she wondered where the third one was, but it didn't matter whether they had Disapparated as well or had been captured.

They had managed to abduct Percy.

— — o — —

Ron, Harry, Terry Boot and Julie were sitting in Harry's cubicle, looking at a map of Britain in which all the attacks had been marked with a pin. They were discussing what they already knew, trying to find a clue that would allow them to discover the source of all this madness. Ron found it extremely boring, and, above all, extremely frustrating, because they seemed to be going in circles. It felt like the first months of the Horcrux hunt to him. He had the feeling that they were talking and talking, planning and planning, and never achieving anything. He hated that, even if this time he didn't have to starve or sleep in a tent in humid forests and cold mountains.

He yawned unashamedly and looked at his watch. "This bloody thing doesn't move," he complained. "I have an appointment to have lunch with Hermione in ten minutes and I am famished. Has anyone cast a Slowing Spell on time?"

Harry laughed, but not with true mirth. It was obvious that he, too, was tired.

"Are you going to eat here at the Ministry?" asked Julie.

"No, she had an appointment at St Mungo's and we're going to have lunch at the Leaky Cauldron. I'm going to meet her at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes."

"Don't be late afterwards!" Julie scolded him. "I want to start soon. I have to be home early tonight."

"What for, a football match?" Ron teased her. He knew that drove her mad, but hey, it was a better way to spend the time than discussing the case over and over again. It wasn't as if they were achieving anything, after all...

"No!" yelled Julie, glaring at him. "If you really want to know, I have a date tonight! And it's my first date in months, so I don't want to miss it."

"A date?" asked Terry, looking at her with interest. "Well, I haven't been on a date for quite long, either. If he has a pretty sister, tell me, okay?" Julie laughed.

"A date," repeated Ron, staring into Julie's eyes. In a way, he loved her like a second sister, and, though she was perfectly capable of defending herself — Ron would feel _a bit_ sorry for the guy that would want to mess with her — he couldn't help but feel protective. He knew that Julie hated that, however, so he decided to question her in a slightly different way. "And who's the unfortunate bloke?" he asked. "The poor man has to be mad or desperate. He doesn't know what he got himself into."

"Shut up, Ron! It's easy for you to speak; you're married and surely getting some on a regular basis, but others are not that fortunate!"

Ron felt himself redden. No matter how many times Julie did it, she was always able to make him blush with her bluntness.

"Please, don't put images in my head!" begged Harry, growling. "I see enough; I don't need to hear about it as well."

"You are planning to — to shag him? On the first date?" Ron asked, in a more father-like tone.

"Of course not!" Julie answered hotly. "But hey, I can snog him, can't I? He's intelligent, funny and rather handsome. With everything's been happening here, I could do with some cheering up."

Terry and Harry laughed.

"Okay, okay," conceded Ron. "I don't need to know anything more. Let's fi—"

A sudden light that turned out to be Hermione's otter came flying through the ceiling, interrupting Ron's speech.

"_Ron, Harry. They're attacking Diagon Alley. They're in front of the shop. We need help!"_

Immediately, the four of them stood up and Harry made the alarm sound. Quickly, a group of another four Aurors left the cubicles and gathered in the corridors, ready to act.

"There's an attack taking place in Diagon Alley, in front of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes," Harry informed them as calmly as he could manage. "Terry, Pye and Stockwood, Apparate in front of Ollivanders; Julie, Scrivenshaft, and I will Apparate to the entrance to Knockturn Alley; Ron and Seafish, Apparate near Gringotts. This way, we'll have them surrounded. Come on!"

The eight of them ran towards the Apparition room. Ron was terribly nervous and frightened. In his mind, only one thought repeated over and over again: _Hermione, Hermione, Hermione..._

He had barely set foot in the room when they turned on the spot and Disapparated, Apparating just a moment later near Gringotts. He did a quick survey of his surroundings, and the first thing he noticed was that a lot of buildings had been damaged by the fight. Why hadn't the Aurors watching Diagon Alley called for help? There was still a lot of dust and smoke in the air, so it wasn't easy to see, but he quickly spotted an Attacker next to Gringotts. Without thinking, Elizabeth Seafish and he shot two spells at them. They were able to dodge them, though. Ron and Elizabeth ran towards where the Attacker was, and Ron saw another figure crouched down in the entrance to Knockturn Alley. However, they had seen Harry and the others Apparate, and, before anyone could try and stop them, they Disapparated.

The Attacker near Gringotts looked around, and, realising he was surrounded, looked towards the shop and shouted, "GRAB HIM! GRAB HIM AND LET'S GO!" while defending himself from the spells flying towards him. Then, turning on the spot, he Disapparated.

"Shit!" Elizabeth swore. Ron was going to say something alike, furious at the fact that another of those bastards had managed to escape, but a new scream drew his attention.

"NO! NO! PERCY!" It was Hermione's voice, and Ron felt the blood pumping through his veins run cold. He could now see the shop, and spotted Hermione on the ground, in the middle of the street. George was crawling towards her, covered in dust, but he couldn't see Percy anywhere. Then why was Hermione yelling —?

And suddenly, the meaning of the Attacker's last words made sense to him. Barely noticing that Harry, Julie and Malcolm had joined them in front of Gringotts' stairs, he ran towards Hermione and his brother.

"Hermione! Hermione, George!"

"RON!" Hermione yelled back, getting to her feet. She was covered in dust and crying, and her tears had left two noticeable paths on her face. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Ron, I couldn't do anything!"

"What's happened? Are you okay? Where's Percy?"

"Yes, I'm perfectly fine, but —"

"They took him!" shouted George, looking frenzied and desperate. "Those bastards took him with them! FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!"

"It's my fault," said Hermione, sobbing. "He saved me from a curse and they hit him and then — then —"

"We'll find him. We'll find him," assured Harry, who had just reached them.

"HOW?" George shouted at him, desperate and furious. "HOW? You didn't manage to find those Aurors, did you? So how are you going to find Percy?" he added harshly, and then let out a sudden sob. "Not this again," he muttered. "Not another brother. I can't stand it. I — I just can't."

Ron began to pace back and forth, thinking as fast as he could. They didn't have any means to find Percy, and who knew what those bastards were doing to him? He caught sight of Malcolm Scrivenshaft, who was looking at a body dressed in black robes lying next to Gringotts, and asked, "Is that one of the Attackers?"

"Yes," answered Robert Oak, who was one of the Aurors assigned to Diagon Alley.

"Then let's interrogate him!"

But Malcolm, who had kneeled next to the body, looked at them and shook his head.

"He's dead."

"SHIT!" yelled Ron, clenching his fists.

"Ron, w-we have to calm down. If we think this straight, I'm sure we can —"

Ron looked at her.

"I can't calm down, Hermione! Don't you remember what they did to Justin and Samuel?"

"Y-yes, I — I do," she answered, nodding quickly, tears visible in her eyes. And then, suddenly, those eyes widened, and Ron felt a sudden surge of hope inside him.

"What?" he asked, moving closer to her and putting his hands on her shoulders. "Speak!"

Instead of doing so, Hermione broke free of his grasp, ran towards the shop and went in. After exchanging a quick glance, Ron and Harry followed her, with George at their heels.

Hermione headed straight towards the shelf in the corner, ignoring the questions Andromeda Tonks, who was holding a frightened Teddy, was throwing at her.

"Daddy!" yelled Teddy upon seeing Harry, stretching his little arms towards him.

"Not now, Teddy," Harry answered, and then looked at Hermione, who was now looking for something at the shelf. "Hermione, what —?"

"The Hippogriff Watcher!" she shouted, looking at George. "Percy had it in his hand when the attack began. When we heard the screams he took out his wand, and I'm sure that he left the toy in his pocket when he did, because it is not here!"

Ron didn't understand anything, but George's face lit up instantly.

"Of course!"

"Can you track down that Watcher?" asked Hermione.

"Yes!" George nodded.

"Hermione, can you explain?" asked Harry, completely confused.

"There's no time," she said. "Just get ready, Percy has something on him that we can locate."

Harry didn't need to hear anything else, and neither did Ron. They hurried out of the shop. Julie was putting a sheet over a body; Malcolm Scrivenshaft and James Stockwood were examining the body of the dead Attacker; Artemius Pye and Robert Oak were trying to revive Aldus Humpton, the other Auror; and Terry and Elizabeth Seafish were talking to Parvati and Lavender.

"Get ready!" Harry shouted. "We are going on a rescue mission right now!"

"You know where Percy is?" asked Julie, getting to her feet.

"I hope we will, soon," answered Harry.

"What about here?" asked Terry. "Someone has to —"

"Parvati, Lavender, can you inform the Ministry?" asked Harry quickly.

"Yes, don't worry," said Parvati, nodding firmly. "Just be careful," she added, and they both went back to their shop.

George and Hermione came out of the shop in a hurry, George holding something like a compass.

"We've located him!" Hermione said excitedly.

Ron took the compass from George's hand and looked at it. It was pointing towards the Northwest, but it also had a number on it.

"The number is the distance, in yards," explained George. "We've looked at a map and it points to a place about a mile north of a village called Northgate."

"Let's go, then!" ordered Harry. "Hermione, please, can you take care of the situation here? Lavender and Parvati have gone to inform the Ministry."

"I will," she said, and then she launched herself at Ron and hugged him tightly. "Be careful," she whispered into his ear. "Please."

"I will," he said.

"You, too, Harry," she added, releasing Ron. "All of you."

The nine Aurors Disapparated at once, Apparating again a mile or so north of the small village, wands aloft and ready to fight.

They looked around, and Ron checked the compass. It pointed to the top of a low hill, not very far from them, where a lonely building stood.

"There," said Ron, pointing towards the building, which was old and made of stone. From what he could see, it was a two-story, square-shaped construction, with a rectangular-shaped tower in the north side of the structure that rose above the roof. It looked like it was uninhabited, but the compass indicated clearly that Percy was there.

"Do you think the Muggles in the village can see it?" asked Terry Boot.

"Don't think so," responded Artemius Pye.

"Let's go," said Harry. "We've wasting valuable time. Disillusionment Charms, now!"

Everyone cast the charm, so they couldn't be seen when they approached the building.

"Let's be careful," warned Robert Oak. "There could be Detection Charms around."

Silently but quickly, the nine Aurors spread through the field and went up the hill towards the edifice. When they were just fifty yards away from it or so, they stopped and Harry used his wand to test the air.

"Nothing," he declared.

"Nothing?" said Ron, dumbfounded. They hadn't taken any precaution? Or were they so confident in their ability to avoid being found that they had become arrogant and careless? Or was it a trap? Frowning, he looked at the building, studying it. Its walls were made of rough, old stone. It was obvious that it had been constructed centuries ago. There weren't too many windows, and the glasses in them were dirty and, in some cases, broken.

With a gesture of his hand, Harry pointed to a door in the centre of the wall they were facing. Wary and alert, the nine Aurors moved towards it slowly, and were forty yards away when it suddenly opened. The team halted immediately, ready to attack.

But no one had discovered them. Two people, a wizard and a witch, with their black robes but without the hoods on, walked out of the house and stopped a few yards away from it, looking down the hill at the Muggle village.

"I'm anxious to start torturing that moron Weasley," commented the witch with a cruel smile. Her voice was familiar to Ron, and he realised she was the one who had spoken on Christmas Day. She was one of those who had ruined that day, who had threatened his family, and who had killed two good Aurors. And here she was, willing and anxious to torture Percy. Ron clenched his fists, furious. But, at least, thanks to her Ron knew his brother was fine. "I don't know why he doesn't allow us to start," the woman added.

"No idea," the man said, and Ron recognised him as the one that had ordered another accomplice to grab Percy and Disapparate. He clutched his wand more tightly, bursting with fury. "But I don't mind a bit of rest. It was close there in Diagon Alley. Grewsley's dead."

"All the more reason to kill Weasley in the most painful way possible," said the woman.

"He has his motives, I suppose," the man said. "To make us wait, I mean."

The witch didn't answer and kept staring at the village.

"If we can't torture him, we could go down to the village," she said in a tone that seemed to be filled with a dark lust that made Ron think of Bellatrix Lestrange. "We could have some fun, like the day at the hotel."

"Yeah," nodded the other man. A cruel smile appeared on his face. "That was very entertaining." He turned his head to look at the house, and then spoke again. "Let's go inside, shall we? I'm famished."

The woman nodded, and they both turned round and walked into the building.

"Artemius, Elizabeth, Robert, Terry," called Harry in a shushed voice, "cast Anti-Disapparition charms all over the building. I don't want anyone escaping this time."

"Okay," Ron heard Terry say.

"Let's catch those bastards!"

While the first group moved around the building and began to cast the Anti-Desapparition Charms, the other five hurried towards the door, still protected by the Disillusionment Charms.

They went in, and Ron saw that they were in a great room, like an entrance hall, with a few chairs and an old cupboard. Two doors led to two long corridors, and the man and the woman were heading for the door on the left.

They began to turn round, to see who had opened the door, but Harry and Ron, acting very quickly, shot two Stunning Spells that struck the man, making him hit the wall and fall to the floor. Stockwood tried to do the same to the woman, but she was faster than her companion and was able to cast a Shield Charm and protect herself.

"ALERT!" she shouted, retreating into the corridor. "AURORS! THERE ARE AURORS HERE!"

The Aurors threw more spells at the woman, trying to defeat and silence her, but she was very skilled. She managed to dodge some of the hexes and close the door, causing others to hit it instead of her. The door burst into flames and was blasted off of its hinges, hitting the floor with a loud thud. But the woman was now running and near the end of the corridor.

Ron started to run, wanting nothing more than to catch her, but, when trying to cross the doorway, he bumped into another body, and they both groaned in pain.

"Shit!" he yelled. He looked at the other end of the corridor and saw that the woman had disappeared through the door.

"This is not a good place to be invisible," Harry said. "Let's take the charms off."

Once they were visible again, they ran towards the door. Not wanting to take any more risks than necessary, Ron shot a Blasting Curse that destroyed it, its doorframe and part of the wall, causing someone to scream and swear loudly on the other side.

Without waiting for the smoke and dust to clear, they sped towards the opening, shooting Stunning Spells without a pause, so their enemies couldn't prepare a trap for them.

The corridor opened to a large hall, similar to a living room. There were a big table, several chairs and couches in it. There was also a fireplace with a bright fire in it. Apart from the door from which they had come, there were another three, two on the wall opposite to them, and another on the wall on their right side.

Ron noticed all this in less than a second, which was an essential skill for an Auror, and then focused all his attention on their enemies. There were, at that moment, four of them in the room. Three were crouched down in various places, to avoid the spells, and the fourth was lying on the floor and covered in dust. He seemed to have fallen due to the explosion of the door. All of them were wearing the black robes, but without the hoods. However, Ron didn't recognise any of their faces.

He couldn't think about it for more than a second, though, because a battle started immediately.

Though Ron, Harry and their companions had some problems while going through the hole and into the hall, they soon managed to take advantage of the situation, and a mere minute later two of the four Attackers were on the floor, unconscious. The woman and other bearded, medium-aged man were fighting to death, though. The woman injured Stockwood, who crumbled onto the floor. They started to throw Killing Curses, and the four Aurors scattered to avoid them.

It was obvious that, despite how skilled they were, the two dark wizards weren't going to be able to defeat the Aurors. Cornered, the man turned on the spot ready to Disapparate, but, instead of vanishing, he let out a yell and fell on the floor, clearly in pain.

Ron smiled. The Anti-Disapparition Charms worked.

The woman, realising she was the last one standing, dodged a new spell cast by Julie and shot a curse at the ceiling, which began to fall apart.

"Move!" Harry yelled, and the Aurors cast charms to protect them from the falling wood and stones. Being the one nearest to Stockwood, he lifted his body with his wand and moved it and himself to the corridor from which they had come.

Ron looked towards the room, trying to see the woman through the dust, but the sound of people running towards him drew his attention. He turned round and saw that the Aurors of the group that had cast the Anti-Disapparition Charm running towards him.

"We've managed to beat three of them," Ron quickly informed the group when they reached him. "Stockwood's unconscious, but he'll be okay." He saw that the whole ceiling of the room had crumbled, revealing the second floor of the building, and told the others, "One of them, a woman, fled. Let's go and catch her!"

They went into the room again. Ron looked around and saw the others brushing the dust off their faces and getting ready to fight again. Ron noticed Harry had a cut on his forehead.

"She went through that door," said Harry, pointing at the door on the right wall. "Let's go after her!"

The rest of them nodded, and Harry, like Ron had done before, blasted the door, so no one could be waiting for them behind it. When the smoke cleared, they could see a small, empty room with another door on the other side. They crossed it carefully, but, when they had almost reached the other door, it exploded, sending them backwards through the air. A new, even greater hall could be seen on the other side. Ron could see the woman there, but she was not alone: three other wizards or witches were with her, their heads covered by the hoods.

The woman laughed, but her laughter died instantly when she saw that they had eight Aurors in front of them instead of four.

Soon, the place was glowing with the lights of the flying spells. One of the Attackers managed to hit Terry, but, a moment later, Harry and Elizabeth Seafish defeated a tall and bulky wizard. But then, another door opened, and a new, tall figure with dark robes and a hood slightly different from those the rest of the Attackers were wearing came into the room. The person stood still in the doorway for a moment, watching the battle going on before them. Ron felt suddenly and inexplicably drawn to the figure. He fixed his gaze on the mysterious newcomer and, immediately, felt a surge of fear that almost froze him on the spot. That was a feeling he has experienced only once, the night Hermione and he had been threatened ...

Before he could pull himself together, the cloaked person made an incredibly quick flick with his wand and blasted Artemius Pye and Elizabeth Seafish away. They hit the wall behind them and crumbled onto the floor, unconscious but stirring slightly. Ron, regaining the control of his limbs, shot a spell at him, but the figure dodged it and, without delay, turned to the right and started to climb up a staircase that led to the higher levels of the building very quickly. Ron's instincts told him to follow them, so he broke into a run to try and catch them. One of the other enemies got in his way, though, and he found himself battling them until Julie came to his aid and made the enemy drop to the floor with a well-aimed Stunning Spell.

Ron looked around and saw that his companions were winning their battle against the two remaining enemies, so he began to climb the stairs, Julie right at his heels. The staircase opened to another big room. There were three doors there, besides a narrow, wooden and dark staircase that apparently led to the tower of the building. Ron, trying to control his breathing, listened carefully, and could hear the muffled sound of someone climbing up the stairs. Without hesitation, he ran towards them, and reached their bottom just to see the cloaked figure disappear at the top.

Ron looked at Julie, she nodded, and, together, they climbed up the staircase, quickly but warily, both ready for any danger that could come their way. They reached the top, which was at the beginning of a long corridor well lit thanks to the little window at the end of it. There was just one door there, on the right wall, near the window, and was closed.

"There," said Ron in a low voice, and jogged soundlessly along the corridor, with Julie behind him and equally silent. He leaned against the wall in front of the door, and pointed his wand at it. Julie did the same, but positioning herself next to it, her back against the wall, and they exchanged a look.

"Now," mouthed Ron with a nod.

Julie nodded, too, and, with a sweep of her wand, blasted the door from its hinges, revealing the room behind it to Ron's eyes. He couldn't see anyone, so he moved sideways to the left; that way he would be able to see anyone that could be hiding there. However, the room seemed to be empty. He nodded to Julie, indicating that there was no danger, and they both went in. Ron looked around, studying the room. There was just one window there, very dirty, on the left wall (the same wall in which the door of the corridor was), and another door in front of them. Apart from that, the room just contained a wooden table, two old chairs and an empty shelf.

Julie walked over the fallen door and got closer to the other one, which was ajar. Ron saw her point the wand at it and whisper, "_Homenum revelio!_"

Nothing happened.

"It's empty," said Julie. "We'll have to hurry if we want to catch them!"

Ron moved towards the door warily, because he couldn't help but have an odd feeling of uneasiness. Something was not right here, and yet he couldn't get what it was.

Julie stretched her arm and pushed the door for it to open completely. The moment her hand touched it, she let out a terrible scream, a wail that made Ron's hairs stand on end. It was obvious she was in pain, as if she had just touched one of those electrified fences Hermione had explained to him once. Ron yelled, "JULIE!" and moved towards her.

However, at the same time, something black appeared out of thin air in the farthest corner of the room, the one that was on the right side of the door from Ron's perspective. Ron felt, rather than saw, the curse coming his way, and moved to his right to avoid it. The streak of light flew past him and hit the wall behind him, shattering it. Acting quickly, he shot a Stunning Spell towards the figure, who was, he realised, the same cloaked figure they had followed up here. Their enemy had set up a trap for them and then had concealed themselves in the corner.

The spell, unluckily, missed its target, and Ron saw, horrified, the person under the cloak — who seemed to be very fast — grab Julie (whose wand was now lying on the floor, having fallen from her hand when she had touched the cursed door) and put her between them and Ron as a shield, a wand on her neck.

Ron, feeling a sense of dread he hadn't felt since the day he had found Hermione lying unconscious in the study of their home, pointed his own wand at the stranger's head and glanced at Julie's face. Apart from causing her pain, the curse of the door seemed not to have harmed her; she was awake and alert. Her eyes were fixed on Ron, filled with fear, but also with determination, and he tried to transmit words of reassurance to her without saying them aloud. Then he fixed his eyes on her captor, whose face was completely hidden by the hood of the cloak. He was tall, Ron noticed, almost as tall as him. The black cloak covered him completely, and his hands, one of which was covering Julie's mouth, were hidden by leather gloves. An attire, Ron noticed, very similar to the clothes Hermione had said her saviour wore. What did that mean?

"Release her," Ron demanded, in his most threatening tone. "Release her right now."

The captor didn't say anything, but merely tilted his head a bit to his left, as if they were studying him. Ron had the strange feeling that, whoever was under the hood, was smiling. He tried to bore into the darkness under it, but it was impossible. The glass of the window was so dirty that little light entered from it, and the hood was ample. Ron gazed at him, feeling the other do the same, and started to feel the strangest sensation he had ever felt. A sense of fear, of dread, of pure terror he hadn't experienced even when he had seen Lord Voldemort face to face, all those years ago, at Hogwarts, washed over him, threatening to paralyse him, to render him incapable of acting. But, at the same time, he felt expectant, as if he was on the brink of discovering the mystery of what was happening. The answers lay there, just under that hood, so close ... and yet unreachable.

He took in the appearance of his enemy once more, and remembered again that night two months ago, when Hermione and he had been disturbed and he had faced a cloaked stranger just outside his home. And he knew that they both were the same person.

"Release her!" ordered Ron once more.

"No," came the almost unexpected answer. It was the voice of a man, deep and odd and strangely familiar. He had heard it before, but where?

"Your men have been defeated," said Ron. "Soon a group of Aurors will be here. You can't Disapparate inside this place. You don't stand a chance."

"Maybe," the man responded, and Ron had the sudden impression that he was playing, or making fun of him, which angered him even more. "But you see, I don't really want to go to Azkaban, as you can very well imagine; and you don't want anything bad happening to her. This is a draw for now, so, why don't we talk for a while?"

"I have nothing to say to the likes of you," Ron said, the tone of his voice getting higher. He was thinking faster than ever before, trying to find a way to save Julie. That was the only thing that mattered now to him, even more than the capture of this man. He had to save Julie.

"We'll stay in silence, then."

Ron gave a few, tentative steps towards his right, but the man moved at the same time, towards his own right, too, dragging Julie in front of him. They were now almost in the corner.

_Bad move_, thought Ron strategically, thinking like a chess player. _You're trapped now. You should have moved towards the door instead of away from it._

"You're the one that left that letter in front of my house, that threat to Hermione."

The man let out a small chuckle. "You're right; it was me."

"You're the one behind all this, all these attacks, all these deaths."

"Ten points to Gryffindor."

"Why are you doing this, killing all those people? And what the fuck do you want to do with my child? ANSWER ME!" demanded Ron. The stress of the situation and the realisation that this man was the cause of everything they had gone through in the last months was making him lose his self-control completely.

The man chuckled again. "Oh, such a nasty temper. So many years in the Auror Office should have helped you to contain it, to have more self-control, don't you think?"

"ANSWER — ME!" demanded Ron again.

"I have my reasons," the man said. "But you should know, Ronald. You would know ... if your mind were in the right state."

"Don't use that cryptic shit with me."

"You want answers, Ronald Weasley? You can get them all. The only thing you have to do is to catch me."

"I have you trapped!" Ron replied.

"No," the other man said calmly. "You may think so, but no. _I_ have you trapped," he added, pressing the tip of his wand more into Julie's neck. "Though, of course, you can easily reverse the situation."

Ron didn't say anything.

"Forget her," the man continued, indicating Julie with a gesture of his head. "Attack me, without caring about her, and you'll have me. Easy, don't you think?"

"No," refused Ron.

"Do it, Ron," the man encouraged him. "She's just one simple girl. Nobody. On the other hand, I ..." his voice tailed away. "Believe me, in the grand scheme of things, I'm much, much more important than she."

Ron clenched his teeth, a few sparks flying from the tip of his wand, and gave a step forwards. "If you do something to her, _you _believe me, I'll rip your rotten heart out of your chest with my bare hands."

In that moment, someone called for them from the lower floors of the castle.

"RON! JULIE!" he heard Harry shout. "WHERE ARE YOU? WE HAVE PERCY! HE'S FINE!"

Ron felt some relief inside him.

"WE'RE HERE, HARRY!" he yelled back, his eyes never leaving his enemy. "I HAVE HIM TRAPPED!"

"You wanted three things, Ron," the man said, as if they hadn't been interrupted at all. "You already have one. The other two are her —" he indicated Julie, "— and me. You can get just one of those last two things ... or none. It depends on your election. Make your choice now."

"I already did," said Ron, hearing someone climbing up the wooden stairs. "Release her now and you'll live long enough to grow old."

"I am already old," stated the man, and Ron saw, with some relief, that he was lowering his wand.

"Ron?" he heard again, this time from the beginning of the corridor that led to the room they were in.

"Here!" called Ron, and smiled at Julie.

"I let you choose, and you made the wrong choice, Ronald," the man said suddenly, and, with an incredibly quick movement, he stabbed Julie's neck with his wand, that glowed for a moment. Ron shouted, "NO!" and saw, horrified, how a long slash opened on the girl's neck and a great stream of fresh, red blood gushed out of it, drenching the man's hand and the front of Julie's robes. Her eyes opened wide, and she let out a strange, hissing scream that was muffled by the man's right hand.

Ron ran forwards, not caring about anything anymore, just knowing that he had to get Julie; he had to get Julie and heal her, because she was losing so much blood —

But the man acted very quickly, too, and, with great strength, threw Julie's body against the window.

"NO, NO, SON OF A BITCH! JULIE!" Ron yelled, running towards her. The man wheeled around and ran towards the door. For a moment, Ron was tempted to shoot a curse at him; _Sectumsempra_, or something that would leave him writhing on the floor, dying slowly and painfully. But Julie had gone through the glass of the window, shattering it completely, and was now falling, so he kept running towards her. He was there in less than two seconds, put his head through the hole and, without thinking, pointed his wand at the falling body and shouted, "_Wingardium Leviosa!_"

The spell worked, and Ron saw how Julie's fast fall was almost stopped, so instead of hitting the ground hard, her body was deposited on it carefully. The wound on her neck was too serious, though, so, without thinking, he vanished the rest of the window and jumped out of the hole, barely hearing Harry yell "RON, WHAT THE —? NO!" behind him.

He cast a Weightless Charm on his own body and, light as feather, he fell slowly and smoothly. The moment his feet touched the ground, he cast the counter-charm on himself, ran towards Julie's writhing body, which was lying four yards away from the wall and kneeled beside her.

"JULIE! Julie, no, no, you'll be fine, you have to be fine," he said to her, and only then he realised he was sobbing. Carefully, he raised her head with his left hand, which got drenched in blood very quickly, and pointed his wand at the slit on her throat. "_Episkey!_" he shouted desperately. The spell made little to no effect, so he tried another, more complicated and powerful."_Sano! Sano! _Come on, Julie, stay with me, okay? STAY WITH ME!"

The wound started to heal, but slowly, too slowly, as if something, probably some sort of Dark magic, was interfering with the healing process. And Ron noticed that there was already so much blood, the grass beneath her was crimson...

Ron's eyesight became blurry because of the tears welling up in his eyes.

"You'll be okay. You'll be okay," he muttered. Under him, Julie's eyes were wide open and filled with panic. She grabbed Ron's robes with her shaking hands and tried to speak, but she could only cough and spit blood.

"Julie, Julie please ... don't die, don't die ..." He spun his head, looking towards the castle. "HARRY! HARRY, FOR FUCK'S SAKE, COME HERE! BRING HELP!"

Ron turned his head once more when he felt Julie clutching at his arms more tightly. Her eyes were glassy, but even wider than before, as if she were trying to see and wasn't able to.

"Julie, be strong, be strong, p-please ..."

"Ro ... on ..." she managed to say with her blood-filled mouth. Her trembling left hand went higher up his arm until she reached his face, which she touched briefly, staining it with blood. But a moment later, he saw the light in her brown eyes fade, and the hand slid down his cheek, slowly at first, and then her arm dropped to the floor, lifeless.

"NO! NO! JULIE! JULIE! JULIE, PLEASE!" Ron cradled her body in his arms, pulled her against his chest and rocked her, sobbing uncontrollably. "Oh, Merlin! Please, Julie, please, come back ... come back ..."

He heard people running towards them, but the sound seemed distant, almost unreal; it was as if they were a thousand miles from Julie and him. But then he felt the presence of someone kneeling next to him, Harry's presence, and he was not far away, but close to him.

"Oh, God!" he heard Harry mutter. "Julie ..." Ron felt Harry's hand on his shoulder, but he ignored it and kept rocking Julie's motionless body.

"WE NEED HELP, HARRY! WHERE ARE THOSE BLOODY HEALERS!?"

"Help is on the way," Harry said, his voice shaken. "But — Ron ..."

Ron made no sign that he had heard him.

"Julie ... Julie, resist a bit more, please ... Remember your d-date, you don't w-want to miss y-your date ..."

"_Ron_," Harry said once more, and Ron, finally, turned towards him and looked at his face. Harry's eyes were full of tears, too. "There's nothing more you can do. She's dead. She's dead, Ron."

* * *

_I'm sure you hate me right now. This is one of the saddest scenes in this fic, and it was very hard to write, but Julie was always meant to die, since the moment I imagined her. I hadn't imagined, though, how fond I'd grow of her. And yet I couldn't save her.  
_

_Maybe you've already noticed I posted a one-shot, a 'missing moment' from this story, about the night Julie went to Ron and Hermione's for the first time. So, if you like Julie and this story, read it. Of course, it's rated M and Ron and Hermione are there. I don't need to explain more._

_It's entitled __**Let's Invite Julie Over**__. Let's make it a tribute to this intelligent, strong and kind girl. I hope you enjoy it, and if you leave a review — which I hope you do, please don't make spoilers, as some people may read that story before this one._

_Next chapter, again, around Thursday._


	12. The Sign of Evilness

_Sorry to those whose reviews I haven't answered as I use to. I've been busy and having problems with my phone line (and therefore, with my internet connection). My holidays are about to end, though, and then I'll have my normal connection at home._

_I'm glad to see many of you liked Julie as much as I do._

_As always, thanks to __**Kathy**__ for her help!_

* * *

**PART I**

**TALES OF NEW MYSTERIES**

_**Chapter 12**_

**The Sign of Evilness**

* * *

Hermione took a new sip of her tea and looked again at the clock. After informing the Ministry and putting someone in charge of Diagon Alley, she had come back to The Burrow, where the family was gathering. Audrey had been informed, and she had come, too, anxious and terribly frightened. But only five minutes after all the members of the family had reunited in The Burrow's living room, the three hands of the clock that represented Harry, Ron and Percy had moved from 'Mortal Peril' to 'At Work.' It seemed that Harry, Ron and the rest of the Aurors had succeeded in their rescue mission, and that fact was celebrated with loud cheers, laughs and sighs of relief. However, all that had happened almost one hour ago, and Hermione was starting to get nervous again. She was on the brink of getting to her feet and leaving for the Ministry.

She put the cup on the table and was about to get up when the fire in the fireplace turned green and Percy, looking sour and shaken but otherwise all right, came out of it. At once, Mrs Weasley, Audrey and Ginny launched themselves at him, almost knocking him backwards, and then embraced him so tightly Hermione thought they were going to suffocate him.

She didn't pay attention to the words they were exchanging, though, because a moment later, Harry appeared. Ginny parted from her brother and embraced him immediately. He returned the hug, closing his eyes, taking comfort in her warmth and love. But, a moment later, he opened them and looked at Hermione over Ginny's shoulder.

Hermione didn't fail to notice that Harry didn't look happy, or even content, as he should be after having succeeded in their rescue mission. Instead, his expression was utterly sad, and his eyes were swollen, just as if he had cried recently.

"Harry...?" she asked. "What's the matter? Where is Ron? Is he all right?" she demanded, speaking very quickly and beginning to fret.

Harry nodded and moved away from Ginny. Everyone in the room was looking at him now, waiting for an answer, and a sense of dread was floating in the air. His gloomy expression seemed to have extinguished the previous happiness.

"He's fine," he answered finally. "But —"

"But — what?" asked Hermione, getting closer to him. "Tell me!"

Harry fixed his eyes on hers.

"It's Julie," he said at last. "She — she's dead. They killed her."

"What?" exclaimed Hermione, unable, _unwilling_, to process his words, because it wasn't possible. It simply couldn't be true.

"Oh, no, no!" moaned Ginny, putting her hands over her mouth, and her exclamation of horror was echoed across the room. "Tell us that's not true, Harry," she begged.

"I wish it wasn't," answered Harry. He looked at Hermione. "Ron's coming," he informed her. "He's taken it ..." He shook his head, and continued, "— well, very badly."

"So it is true? She's _really_ _dead_?"

Harry could only nod.

"Oh, Merlin, oh, no, Julie...!" moaned Hermione, covering her mouth with her hands in horror. This was a nightmare - a complete and absolute nightmare. There was no other explanation for such awful events.

And then, the fire turned green once more, and Ron appeared, still covered in dust and partially soaked in dried blood. But what drew Hermione's attention were not his clothes, or the blood stain on his left cheek, but his eyes. His eyes, usually sparkling and so full of life, were now lifeless and empty. For a moment, everyone stood still, frozen on the spot, staring at him but not knowing what to say. Ron seemed momentarily disconcerted by the presence of his whole family in the living room, all their eyes trained on him. He surveyed the room very quickly and then looked at Hermione, but, when their eyes met, he lowered his head, turned to his right and disappeared up the stairs.

"Hermione, go!" Harry yelled at her. "He needs you."

Harry's words seemed to unfreeze her, and she ran towards the stairs and after her husband.

"Ron! Ron, please, talk to me!" she called while she climbed up the staircase, but no answer came.

He was already inside his room when she reached it. She opened the door, glad that he hadn't sealed it with magic, and stepped in. Once inside, she closed it again and just stood there, looking at the person she loved the most in the whole world.

Ron was standing in front of the window, apparently looking through it. She could see his back, but not his face.

"Ron ..." she said, unsure of how to start. "Ron, I'm so sorry, I —"

"I know," he cut in, his voice hoarse and low, almost emotionless.

"You know I liked her a lot, too," Hermione added, moving slowly towards him. She felt the tears well up in her eyes, blurring her eyesight. "This — this is so awful, so terrible —"

"I was there," Ron said, turning round, and Hermione saw the tears gleaming in his eyes, tears he was obviously trying to stop from running down his face. "I was there, with her. We went after him, but he set up a trap. And he grabbed her. He - the monster behind all this - He grabbed her and I couldn't save her." A lonely tear won the battle against his will and ran down his cheek. He wiped if away with an angry movement of his hand and then lowered his head. "I'm a failure," he said almost inaudibly. He sounded like a defeated man.

"What!?" Hermione exclaimed. "Ron, no! No, you aren't! You aren't, Ron!" she assured vehemently, moving closer to him.

"Yes, I am," he insisted. "I — I left you and Harry when you needed me the most. I couldn't stop Bellatrix Lestrange from torturing you. I — I wasn't there to save you when those bastards broke into our home. And today ... today I couldn't save her. I WATCHED HIM KILL HER, AND I COULDN'T DO ANYTHING TO STOP HIM!" he screamed, his voice filled with anger and pain. Tears were now streaming freely down his face.

Hermione felt her heart break at the sight of him. She moved closer to him and cupped his face with her hands, using her thumbs to wipe away his tears and caress his cheeks as lovingly as she could.

"No, Ron, no! You're an excellent Auror and an even better man! You left, yes, but you came back and saved Harry! And you saved me, Ron! You stopped her; you Disarmed her and took me safely to Bill and Fleur's! Don't you get it? You're far from a failure!"

"No," he said, shaking his head stubbornly. "I should have gone ahead of her. I was responsible for her! I knew I was too young; I didn't train her well enough. If she had — had been trained by another Auror, a better one, then maybe ... maybe she would still be alive."

He turned round again, clenched his right fist and hit the wall with it. Hermione stood behind him, tears running down her own face, and watched his body shake with silent sobs. She didn't know what to do, or what to say. Words, usually her best weapon, were failing her now. And seeing him like this, so broken, caused a surge of vicious hatred inside her. Hatred towards the person responsible for all this, towards the monster who had killed so many people, who had killed Julie, and who was making such a wonderful man feel this way...

Hermione hugged him from behind and rested her head on his back, doing the only thing she could: letting him know that she loved him, was there, and would always be there for him, whenever he needed her, for as long as he needed her.

"She was a really good Auror, Ron. She was intelligent and skilled, and very well-trained. She told me once how glad she was to have been assigned to you. You did your best, Ron, and nobody can ask more of —"

"Then my best is not good enough," he replied bitterly, interrupting her argumentation. Hermione was at a loss for words, and for a few seconds no one said anything. Then, he moved away from her and sat on the bed, put his arms on his knees and looked at the floor.

"She had a date today," he began to say after a few moments of silence. Hermione felt a new surge of pain inside her upon hearing this, and it was then when she fully realised that Julie was dead. She wouldn't smile ever again, she wouldn't share another dinner with them, and she wouldn't make another joke... She shook her head, trying to be strong for Ron's sake, sat beside him and took his hand in hers, clutching it tightly so he knew that she was there. With him. For him. "She was so young, Hermione. She had her whole life ahead of her, and that monster, that son of a bitch, took everything from her. He — he said that she was no one ... that she was of no importance."

"She was important to a lot of people!" he yelled, hurt and furious. "She ... she was important to me."

"To all of us, Ron," Hermione said, and brushed his face with her left hand to wipe away his tears. "And we won't forget her. We'll keep fighting, and her death won't be in vain."

"Her parents are broken. I wanted to be the one to tell them. I — I —" He shook his head and then embraced her, as strongly as he could, and she returned the hug, wanting to offer him as much comfort as she could. "I — I don't know what to do, Hermione. I'm so frightened, so terrified. What if it had been you? I — I could not live with it."

"I love you, Ron," she whispered into his ear. "I love you so much. I am here, and always will be, for you. Always," she repeated.

"I love you too," he said, his voice muffled. "So much. So much, Hermione."

They stayed like that for a few minutes, and then broke apart, both of them brushing their faces.

"Is — is everyone else all right?" she asked.

Ron nodded.

"Terry, Elizabeth Seafish, Artemius Pye and James Stockwood were injured, but they'll be fine."

"Did you capture someone?"

"Seven Attackers. But their master, Julie's murderer, escaped, and we don't know how. We were at the top of the building, there were Anti-Disapparition Charms on the place ... But he managed to flee." Hermione saw him clench his jaw. "I want to kill him."

"I know," she said.

"He was the same person that left us that letter threatening us. I won't stop until he is in prison, or even better, dead." He looked at her, and she saw that his eyes were no longer empty, but full of determination. Anger had somewhat replaced pain. "I won't let anything happen to you or to our daughter. I'll do _anything_ to stop him."

"I know," she repeated in a soft and soothing voice, caressing his hair. "I know, Ron. I know this is hard and that what happened is terrible, but it is not your fault. You're not a failure, Ron; you've achieved so many things. It's his fault, that man's. He's the only one to blame."

Ron stared at her, his eyes fixed on hers, and then he pulled her towards him and kissed her fiercely. Hermione responded with equal fervour, wanting to forget her own pain, wanting to make him feel better. If he wanted sex, she would comply. She would do anything to make her pain and his go away.

But, after a minute or so, Ron stopped and leaned his forehead against hers.

"I can't do this," he said. "I can't. Not when Julie's — I can't."

"It's okay," she said. "It's okay, Ron. I understand. I feel the same way."

"For a moment, I thought everything would be over," he said suddenly, and Hermione frowned in confusion, not knowing what he was referring to. "He had Julie, but he was cornered, and Harry and the others had found Percy. They were coming up. I thought we would catch him, and this nightmare would be over. But then he ... he stabbed her, with his bloody wand. He slit her throat in front of me and threw her out of the window. She — she d-died in my arms, Hermione. And she knew she was going to — to die, and said m-my n-name, and I — I couldn't do anything to help her."

"Oh, Ron," she said, trying to imagine what he had gone through. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"When we buried Fred, I thought I wouldn't have to endure something like this ever again, that we had left all that shit behind us."

"We all believed that."

He brushed his face once more, and then stood up.

"I need a shower," he stated.

"Er — okay," Hermione answered almost automatically, a bit taken aback by the sudden change of topic.

"I'm going to have one now."

"Okay," she nodded. "Er — do you want me to wait for you here?"

"It is not necessary," he said, and opened the wardrobe to grab some clean clothes.

"Ron ... are — are you going to be all right?" she asked, a bit timidly.

He fixed his eyes on hers.

"No," he answered simply. "Not for now. Not until that monster is in Azkaban... or six feet under," he declared, and left the room, leaving behind a sad and worried Hermione.

She stayed there for a few minutes, her eyes fixed on the door. Her head swarming with thoughts and memories: her initial jealousy towards Julie; how hard it had been at first to welcome her in her circle; the way she had grown on her; the many nights she had had dinner with them; the times when she had sought her and asked for her advice on many things; her blunt jokes and comments...

"Oh, Julie ..." Hermione muttered, feeling her eyes well up with tears again.

After a while, she wiped away her tears, composed herself and went downstairs. When she entered the living room, everyone stared at her with a quizzical and worried look, so she repeated to them what Ron had told her. She wanted Harry to explain everything to her, but he wasn't there, and neither were Audrey and Percy.

"Where's Harry?" she asked.

"He went back to the Ministry, to take care of the prisoners," Ginny answered.

"Oh. I wanted to ask him to tell me what had exactly happened."

"I can do it," Ginny said. "He explained everything before leaving."

Ron stayed in the bathroom for over an hour. When he finally made it to the living room, Hermione forced him to sit down and Mrs Weasley tried to get him to eat something, but he refused. He took, however, the cup of strong tea Hermione offered him.

"We are all very sorry about Julie, Ron," his mother told him. "She was a really good girl, always so kind."

Ron just nodded, but without looking at her, and drank his tea almost in one gulp.

"I should go to the Ministry."

"No, not today," Hermione said, sitting next to him putting one hand on his shoulder to prevent him from getting up. "You've done enough for today, Ron."

"I didn't do anything the others didn't, and Harry's there, isn't he?"

"Yes, he's there," confirmed Hermione.

"Then I'm going, too. I need to do something. I can't just stay here, not doing anything." Ron clenched and unclenched his fists and lowered his head, and Hermione knew that he was making an effort not to break down again.

"Okay," she said, sighing. She knew that trying to convince him to say would be a wasted effort. "If you want to go, then we can go together. I was going to take the afternoon off, but I suppose I can do some work."

Ron nodded, and they both stood up. But in that instant, the flames turned green and Harry came out of them. He saw Ron and Hermione and stared at them.

"How are you?" he asked.

Ron shrugged. "What are you doing here?" he asked. "It's too early."

"I wanted to tell you something."

"Have any of them said anything about where we can find that bastard?" Ron asked, clenching his fists in rage.

"No, but we discovered that one of the captured Attackers is someone we know very well."

"Who?" demanded Ron, moving closer to Harry, "Tell me."

"Remember that bulky Attacker that was in the room with the staircase?" said Harry, and Ron nodded. "Goyle."

"Goyle," repeated Ron in a neutral, emotionless tone. "You mean Gregory Goyle, Malfoy's crony? The same Goyle we saved from the Room of Requirement?" asked Ron, his anger now clearly visible in his face. "You mean that Goyle?"

"Yeah, that Goyle," nodded Harry.

"Fucking son of a bitch!" yelled Ron.

"Ronald!" said Mrs Weasley. "Watch your language!"

Hermione stared at Harry, dumbfounded. It seemed incredible, that, after they had saved him and after what had happened that day, Goyle had gone back to the old ways.

"We should have let him burn that night, like his friend Crabbe!" shouted Ron, pacing the room and ignoring his mother's scolding. He stopped and looked at Harry again. "Has he said anything?"

"Not one of them has talked."

"They will," said Ron dangerously. "This time, they will."

"Ron..." started to say Hermione, putting a hand on his shoulder to try to soothe him.

"They will!" repeated Ron. "Two more people died today, Hermione! Two! And Julie is the fifth Auror who has died since this began!"

"I know how you feel, Ron," said Harry in a calm voice. "I feel the same. But I didn't come just to talk about that. I came because, when I saw Goyle, an idea struck me."

"What idea?" asked Ron, very interested.

"Goyle was not really involved in the war, but he is the first person with direct connections to old Death Eaters," said Harry. "That made me think ... What if they tried to recruit other ex-Death Eaters?"

"Like who?" asked Hermione. "They're all in prison."

"Not the Malfoys," said Harry.

Ron's eyes narrowed, and he reminded Hermione of a predator that had just spotted its prey.

"Malfoy?" she asked. "But I don't think Goyle and Malfoy have had any contact these last years. "Neither Lucius nor Narcissa are allowed to perform magic and Draco's wand is monitored."

"Well, I think it's a good idea, and we should visit Malfoy Manor," replied Ron. "It's been ... a while," he said, and his eyes darkened.

"I think it's worth a shot, too."

"I'll grab my cloak," said Ron, and he began to walk towards the stairs.

"No!" said Harry, stopping him. "Not now. I've got a lot to do. I think we should wait until — well, until the day after tomorrow."

"Why not tomorrow?" asked Ron, furrowing his brow.

Harry took a deep breath. "That's the other reason I came," he said. "Julie's funeral is tomorrow."

Ron lowered his head and nodded slowly.

"Yeah, okay. We'll — we'll wait then."

"I — I've got to go back," said Harry, a bit awkwardly. "If you need something ..." he added, staring at Ron.

"We were going to the Ministry, too," he replied.

"What?" Harry asked, surprised. "Ron, you don't need to. We —"

"It's my job," he said, his voice getting a bit louder. "And I — I can't just sit here. I can't. I've gotta help. I owe it to her."

Harry stared at him for a bit, and then looked at Hermione, but she didn't say anything.

"Okay, then. Let's go."

In the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, the air was gloomy and dark. The Aurors were paying a high price in this new war, and, despite the numerous detentions, people were frightened and depressed.

"They're already being interrogated," commented Harry, so the three friends made their way to the interrogation rooms. The moment they were in the watching room, Hermione saw that Goyle (who had aged rather badly, in her opinion) and a woman were currently inside. Malcolm Scrivenshaft and another Auror whose name Hermione didn't know were there with them. Ron approached the magical wall and looked into the interrogation room through it, his face contorted in fury. He clenched his fists and, without saying anything, exited the room.

"Ron, wait!" shouted Harry, and hurried after him.

A moment later, Hermione saw the door in the interrogation room open and a furious Ron enter, followed by Harry. The two Attackers and the Aurors looked at them; the Aurors, surprised; the Attackers, imperturbable

"You son of a bitch," said Ron spitefully, his eyes fixed on Goyle, as he walked towards them. "We saved you. We took you out of that room risking our own lives!"

Goyle looked up at him, but his expression was very different to the ones she remembered. He looked defiant and ... cruel.

"Did you expect a bunch of flowers, Weasley? Or a thank you card?" he said, in a very contemptuous tone.

Hermione saw Ron clench his fists and narrow his eyes.

"Where is your boss?" he asked, barely containing his anger. "Where does he hide? TELL ME!"

"Fuck off."

Ron approached the table, and the other two Aurors, a bit frightened, moved their chairs to give him room. He put his hands on the table and leaned towards Goyle. "You'll tell me," he said dangerously.

"Ron, no!" said Harry, clutching his robes, but Ron didn't even acknowledge his friend.

"You'll tell me, whether you want to ... or not."

For a moment, Hermione expected the Attackers to burst into flames, after Ron's subtle reference to Veritaserum, but nothing happened.

"Even if I would want to — which I don't — I couldn't tell you anything," Goyle said. "The only place we know is that castle."

"Who's your boss?" demanded Ron. "TELL ME!"

"We've never seen his face," answered Goyle.

"YOU'RE LYING!" yelled Ron, beside himself.

"No, they aren't," interjected Harry. "They're even worse than the Death Eaters. They don't even know what they are doing or why. They're just slaves who serve a master. He'll use them while they're useful, but won't care about them and won't bother to tell them anything."

Ron lowered his head, and then raised his clenched fist and hit the table with it, hard.

"You'll rot in Azkaban for the rest of your lives," he said, and looked at them, his eyes full of fury and hate. "Did you hear me? For — the — rest — of — your — lives!" he added, and then whirled around and stormed out of the room.

Hermione moved towards the door, and was almost there when Ron opened it brutally, making it bang against the wall. They stood still for a few moments, staring at the other. He was very angry and upset.

"Let's go home," he said. "Let's go home, Hermione."

She simply nodded, and, holding his hand in her tiny one, they both left the department.

— — o — —

The snow was falling slowly, covering the ground in a white, soft blanket, as the attendants to the funeral gave their last goodbye to Julie. All the Weasleys were there, as were all the people who were in Harry, Ron and Hermione's not so-secret group of fighters. Of course, all the Aurors, except those on duty, were present, as were some more members of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including Blevelty, Pamwyck and Kingsley.

Hermione turned her head to the left and looked at Ron, whose eyes, full of sadness and pain, were fixed on Julie's coffin, which was being magically covered with earth. When the coffin was no longer visible, Julie's mother let out a scream of pain and despair that made Hermione's cringe and brought up memories of Molly's wails at Fred's funeral. Though Ron's expression didn't change and his eyes didn't move, she felt his grip on her hand tighten. She returned the squeeze, and her eyesight became blurry due to the tears welling up in her eyes.

Hermione wiped them away, and saw that some people were saying goodbye to Julie. A moment later, Ron moved forward, and she walked alongside him. He looked at her pleadingly, and she understood. She took out her wand, Conjured some flowers and put them on the place where Julie rested now, over the wet, brown earth that was quickly turning white because of the intense snowing.

"We'll catch them," she heard Ron mutter. "We'll stop him, Julie, and he'll pay for what he did to you — for everything he's done. I swear it." Ron let out a sob, and Hermione got closer to him and put her left arm around his waist, resting her head against his right shoulder. "I'm sorry," he added. "I'm so sorry for not having been able to save you." he sniffed loudly. "I'll miss you, Julie."

"We both will miss you so much," Hermione added. "Rest in peace."

Ron put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her even closer to him, and, this way, they turned round and moved away from the tomb, towards where Harry and Ginny were. Julie's mother, now apparently a bit calmer, was talking to them.

"Catch him," she was saying. "Catch the — the monster that d-did this to my daughter. Catch him."

"We will," Ron said suddenly, causing Mrs Simmells to look at him. "I swear that we will."

Julie's mother stared at him for a few moments.

"You're a good man, Ronald Weasley," she said. "Julie was very glad for having had you as a trainer. Take care of yourselves," she added, and started to turn round to leave.

"Mrs Simmells, I..." Ron started to say, and Hermione noticed he was using all his willpower not to lower his gaze. "I'm sorry. I — I wish I could have done something else for her. I —"

"Don't," Mrs Simmells stopped him sternly. "Don't, Ron. I know you cared for her. I know that, had you been able to, you'd have saved her. Regret won't do anything for us, for her, now. We can't change what happened. My daughter was skilled and intelligent. I would have preferred for her to have a different job, and she knew it, but I was very proud of her. She loved being an Auror. She died doing what she liked and fighting for what is right. That's our only comfort now. Thanks for coming. Goodbye," she finished. Then she joined her husband and the rest of her family, and, together, comforting one another, they walked out of the graveyard.

"Let's go to The Burrow," said Ginny in a sad voice. "I think we all need a nice, strong cup of tea."

"No," said Ron decidedly. His eyes were still fixed on Julie's parents, and it wasn't until they had left that he moved his head to look at his wife, sister and best friend.

"No?" asked Hermione, shocked. "Where do you want to go?"

"Malfoy Manor," answered Ron. "I've got a promise to keep, and I couldn't stand being at The Burrow, just sitting and not doing anything. Besides, if the Malfoys are in this, or know something, the sooner we question them, the better."

Harry and Hermione exchanged a look, and then Harry looked back at Ron.

"Okay," he said, nodding. "If you really want to go now, we'll go. I'll inform Blevelty."

Ron nodded, and Harry released Ginny's hand and walked towards where Blevelty, Kingsley and Pamwyck stood.

"Are you sure about this, Ron?" asked Ginny, her face reflecting the worry she felt for her brother.

"Absolutely," Ron answered. He looked at Hermione. "Are you going to The Burrow, too, or do you plan on going to your office?"

Hermione didn't know what she was going to say until the words left her mouth.

"I'm going with you two."

"What?" asked Ron and Ginny at the same time.

"I'm going to Malfoy Manor, too," said Hermione. "I'm a high-ranking official, and you know the Malfoys. Everything'll be easier if I go, too."

"It's Malfoy Manor, Hermione," said Ron, his eyes boring into hers. "You haven't been there since —"

"I know," Hermione replied. "But I'll be fine; you don't have to worry about me. Besides, six eyes see more than four."

"Okay, we can get going," said Harry, who was back. He stopped and looked at them. "What's the matter?"

"Hermione says she's coming with us," Ron informed him. Harry stared at her, astounded.

"What?"

"What you've heard," said Hermione. "Can we get going? I'm getting a bit cold."

Harry looked at his best friends, obviously wanting to say something, but then he seemed to change his mind and nodded. "Okay then," he said. He kissed Ginny briefly and told her, "See you at home. We won't be late, I hope."

Ginny nodded. "Good luck."

Ginny joined the other Weasleys, and Harry, Ron and Hermione grabbed one another's hands and Disapparated.

It was snowing in Wiltshire, too, when the three of them Apparated in front of Malfoy Manor's gates. Under the grey, dark sky, the house looked impressive and almost as cold and frightening as the last time they had been there, that awful night when they had been captured by the Snatchers during the war.

Hermione looked at the unfriendly building and felt a shiver run down her spine; a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold.

After a brief pause in which they observed the building, looking for any sign of potential danger, Harry moved forward and approached the wrought-iron gates. He took his wand and touched them with it.

A moment later, the iron of the gates began to contort and twist, and formed a face that spoke with the voice of Narcissa Malfoy.

"Who's there?"

"Ministry of Magic, Department of Magical Law Enforcement," said Harry in his most authoritarian voice. "Open the doors."

There was a short pause, and then the gates opened, allowing the three friends to walk onto the Malfoys' property. When they were nearing the front doors, they opened and in the doorway appeared the figure of Draco Malfoy.

Harry, Ron and Hermione stopped and looked up at him. It had been at least two years since the last time Hermione had seen him, and she noticed that this Draco looked very different than the one she had known during their first six years at Hogwarts. For starters, that smug look that he used to wear on his face was completely wiped off of it, replaced by the marks and the expression of a much harder life. The three Malfoys had managed to avoid Azkaban, thanks, in part, to the fact that Harry, Ron and Hermione had never told anyone except their family what really had happened the night they had been caught by the Snatchers and had been taken there, or that Draco, Crabbe and Goyle had tried to hand them over to Lord Voldemort during the Battle of Hogwarts. Though Draco and Lucius had the Dark Mark, they were not involved, as far as anyone knew — or could prove — in any killings, and, though Lucius had escaped Azkaban, they had argued that he had been forced out of there by Lord Voldemort, along many other prisoners.

However, it was obvious that Voldemort had used their home as headquarters and their cellar as prison, and avoiding Azkaban had cost them a large amount of money - money they had had to give to the Lovegoods, for having had Luna there (the Lovegoods had started to edit _The Quibbler_ once more thanks in part to that money); to Ollivander (who had refused to take it and had instead donated it to St Mungo's); to the goblins of Gringotts (who had accepted it greedily) and to Hogwarts. They had managed to keep their family home, and they were not in need, but the future generations of the Malfoys wouldn't be able to buy the best racing brooms to get a position on a Quidditch team.

Despite all this, and that Harry had declared that Narcissa had helped him, that they hadn't fought alongside Voldemort during the last battle in the Great Hall and that they hadn't tried to flee the country, like other Death Eaters, Narcissa and Lucius had been sentenced never to use a magic wand again, and, in the case of Lucius, to house imprisonment for life.

So Draco had taken over the family business, and had had to deal with the downfall and the disgrace of the Malfoy name. Hermione didn't pity him. What had happened to him was due to his actions, or, rather, to his cowardice. However, she wasn't glad about it, either.

"Potter, Weasley and Granger," said Malfoy, without his old usual sneer, which almost surprised Hermione, after years of perceiving it in his voice. "It's been a long time." He made a gesture for them to enter the house. "Come in, or you'll freeze out there and the Ministry will hold me responsible."

Harry, Ron and Hermione climbed up the front stairs and followed him inside, and then along the hallway. Hermione felt some anxiousness grow inside her and tried not to think about the last and only time she had been there when they walked into the drawing room. Ron threw a worried look at her, put a hand on her back and rubbed it soothingly. She gave him a small smile.

A big fire was crackling in the fireplace, warming the otherwise cold room and, close to it, three people were sitting on a large couch: Narcissa, Lucius, and another young girl that Hermione recognised as Astoria Greengrass, Draco's wife.

Lucius had a cup of liquor in front of him, something that looked like Firewhiskey, and he raised his head to look at them when they walked in. Hermione felt a strange mixture of sympathy and distaste at the sight of him. This was what the once proud Lucius Malfoy had become. He had lost a lot of hair, had bags under his eyes and stubble on his face, and looked more like a tramp than like a member of the Wizarding nobility. He didn't move or say anything when he saw them, but Narcissa stood up and greeted them formally, though Hermione could tell that she wasn't happy with their presence there.

"Would you like something to drink?" she asked them in a very polite and business-like voice. "I can offer you a cup of tea. It's freezing outside."

"No, thanks," answered Ron, a bit harshly. Hermione felt glad. Though she would have loved to drink something hot, her desire to be out of this house as soon as possible was far greater. She felt uneasy standing there, where she had been tortured, and in front of the people who had allowed it to happen.

"We just want to talk to Draco," explained Harry. "Alone, if possible," he added.

Narcissa exchanged a look with Draco and he nodded. Astoria's eyes followed this silent exchange, and she stood up as well, putting a hand over her big belly. She was pregnant, too.

"Draco hasn't done anything!" she shouted, and moved forward, as if trying to shield him from them.

"Astoria," Narcissa warned her in a calm, almost aristocratic voice.

"He hasn't done anything," Astoria insisted.

"Astoria, behave." said Draco seriously. Then he looked at his family, "Leave us alone, the three of you," he asked before turning his head again to look at Harry, Ron and Hermione.

"I'm subjected to never leave this house," Lucius said suddenly, his voice low, hoarse and filled with bitterness. "And now I can't even be in _my_ drawing room?" He glared at the three friends. "What right do you have to enter here and ask for anything?"

"Father," said Draco, without looking at him.

"We have every right," said Hermione then, trying to sound as confident as she could. "They're Aurors and I am an official of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. You know very well, Mr Malfoy, that as part of your sentence, you've got to allow any member of the Department to enter the house, search it, and ask anything regarding any Dark activity whenever they want and without the formality of a previous notice."

Narcissa moved closer to her husband and helped him to his feet. Then they both left the room, followed by Astoria, who cast a quick backwards glance at them.

"Well, what has brought you three here?" asked Malfoy when they were alone. "I imagine it is not that you miss this place," he said, looking at Hermione.

She felt Ron's body tense, but there wasn't contempt in Draco's voice, and Ron seemed to think so, because a moment later he relaxed, though not completely.

"No, we don't miss this place," said Harry. "I'm sure you know why we're here."

"I'm not stupid, Potter, of course I know — or, at least, I can imagine. But you already sent Aurors to investigate a few weeks ago. I heard you had all families related to Death Eaters investigated. Besides, both my wand and this house are charmed; the Ministry would detect any sign of Dark magic, so you know very well I haven't done anything illegal."

"It's the best you could have hoped," said Ron. "It was this or Azkaban."

"I know, Weasley. I won't deny that, despite everything, I'm fortunate. I am twenty-five and alive, which is something I didn't expect eight years ago."

"As you may know, we've caught several members of this new organisation threatening the Wizarding world, the Attackers, yesterday," Harry continued. "And, among them was your old friend Goyle."

Draco opened his eyes, surprised, though — Hermione noticed — not too much.

"Goyle and I haven't been friends for a long time," said Malfoy. "We've barely seen each other since the day of the last battle."

"So you don't know anything?" asked Ron. "These people were recruited. Nobody tried to recruit you? Nobody talked to you?"

"I'm not that stupid as to be involved, once more, in something like this," Malfoy said, raising his voice. "As you might have noticed, Weasley, my wife is pregnant; I know what's at stake."

"So you know nothing?" asked Hermione. "You haven't heard anything at all?"

"I cut all my ties with anyone related to what happened all those years ago," said Malfoy. "None of them were very happy with us, as you can imagine, and, in any case, mixing with them wasn't ... convenient."

"Yes, I imagine," said Hermione coldly, thinking that detaching from anything or anyone that could get them into trouble was an ability the Malfoys hadn't lost.

"But now that you mention Goyle, it is possible that I know something."

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged a quick glance and then focused all their attention on Malfoy. He opened his mouth, but, before any word could come out of it, a door opened and Astoria walked into the room, her face showing an absolute determination.

"Astoria, I asked you to leave us alone!"

"No!" she responded hotly. "You're my husband; I've got _every_ right to be here!" she added, and Hermione couldn't help but feel a bit of respect for her. Despite the fact that she could not understand what someone could see in Malfoy to want to marry him, it was obvious that Astoria cared for him and was ready to stand by his side.

She sat beside him, and Harry said, speaking to Malfoy, "You were saying?"

"A year ago or so," Malfoy started, "I received a letter. It was very short. It said that the person who had written it was aware of the difficult situation we were in, and that he had some business in which I might be interested. The letter said that I wouldn't regret it, and that, if I wanted to meet him, they would be waiting for me at the Three Broomsticks, in Hogsmeade. The letter was signed with just an 'S.'"

"And?" asked Ron.

"I thought about not going, of course," continued Draco. "But I thought that surely nothing illegal would be discussed in a place like The Three Broomsticks, and I've got to admit I was very curious, so finally I went there," he explained. "However, no one talked to me. I waited about half an hour and then left. They never tried to contact me again, and I simply forgot about it, thinking that it surely was some stupid joke."

"And what does that have to do with what is happening?" asked Harry, a bit impatient. "This is not a game!"

"I don't know if it has something to do with it or not," Malfoy replied. "I told you I might know something, not that I knew for sure. When I left the Three Broomsticks, I ran into Goyle. It had been a few years since the last time I had seen him, and I found it odd that he was there. He appears in public even less than me. But well, there he was, and I remember he looked at me, told me I was still the same old coward, and left. I never understood what he was referring to, though."

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged another look. Harry had a frown on his face.

"Do you have that letter?"

"I don't know," Draco answered. "I'm not sure what I did with it. I think I burned it."

Hermione was going to say something, but the odd look on Astoria's face drew her attention and she forgot about her question.

"What?" Hermione asked her. "Do you remember something?"

"You said that you waited half an hour," said Astoria, looking at Draco. "But you were gone for longer than that. More than one hour, I'm sure. I'd say that you were gone for almost two."

Draco furrowed his brow. "No, I'm sure it wasn't more than half an hour. The Three Broomsticks is not one of my favourite places. One hour there would have been hell for me, and two ..."

"I'm sure, Draco."

"Are you sure you went into the Three Broomsticks at all? Or that you were even in Hogsmeade?" asked Harry, and Hermione knew that he was thinking about what James Mathery had said during his interrogation, about having forgetting something that had happened during his first interview with their master. Was it possible that this person had planted false memories in Draco's mind, too? Hadn't Tom Riddle done exactly that to cover his first crimes?

"Of course I'm sure, I'm not barmy," replied Malfoy, slightly offended.

"Did he say that he was going to Hogsmeade before leaving?" Ron asked Astoria.

"Yes," Astoria nodded, "though I don't remember anything about the Three Broomsticks. I remember that you said you had grown tired of waiting when you came back," she told Draco, "but you didn't mention the Three Broomsticks before leaving; just that you were going to Hogsmeade."

"Well, I was there, sitting at a table and drinking Firewhiskey," said Malfoy.

"What did you do before going in?" Harry asked. "Did you go in the moment you Apparated? Or perhaps you used the Floo Network?"

"I Apparated," Malfoy answered. "I arrived a bit early, so I wandered around for a few minutes."

"What did you do?" Harry insisted. "Where did you go?"

"I don't know!" Draco shouted. "It was more than a year ago, okay? I walked for a bit, maybe I looked at some shop windows! Can you remember what you did a year ago?"

"You'd better calm down," said Ron a bit menacingly, earning a glare from Astoria.

"Okay, that's enough," said Harry then. "Thanks for your help."

"It was a pleasure," Malfoy replied, with a hint of a sneer. "Thank you for the visit. You know where the door is, don't you?"

"We do, thanks," said Ron. The three of them stood up, and, without another word, left the drawing room and the house. They walked in silence until they were outside the iron gates, and then stopped.

"There's something strange in his story," said Harry then.

"Do you think that someone modified Malfoy's memories?" Ron asked.

"I'm almost sure of it," Harry said. "You heard him; he didn't want to get involved in a war once more. I guess that he went to a meeting, and when he refused to participate, that 'master' modified his memories, and that's why Goyle told him that afterwards."

"But why didn't they simply kill him?" asked Ron.

"That would draw unwanted attention," said Harry. "He was still recruiting people; he didn't want anyone to suspect anything. Erasing his memories was the best plan; if he hadn't run into Goyle, we wouldn't know about this."

"It makes sense," nodded Ron, and then turned his head to look at Hermione. "Hermione? What do you think?"

"I think Harry's right," she said thoughtfully.

"That doesn't give us anything useful, though," Ron commented, clearly disappointed. "Even if our theory is right, we still know nothing."

"Well..." Hermione replied. "I think that Malfoy gave us valuable information."

"What?" Ron asked. "What kind of valuable information? That this guy recruits by sending letters?"

"No, that the meeting in which Malfoy and Goyle participated took place in Hogsmeade," answered Hermione.

"Why are you so sure?" Ron asked, looking at her with curiosity.

"You heard Astoria," said Hermione. "She said that Malfoy had gone there. At some point, while he was wandering around, he met the master, but he made him forget about it afterwards, and instead, they planted in his mind the idea that he had to wait at The Three Broomsticks. And besides, remember that Goyle was there, too."

"You're right!" Harry exclaimed, nodding excitedly. "So you think this master has — or had — a meeting point in Hogsmeade, too? Maybe a house?"

"I'm fairly sure," Hermione answered. "It seems that he uses several places, doesn't it? That cave, that sort of castle ..."

"But we don't know if he uses a house, or a cave, or anything like that in Hogsmeade," said Ron. "We can't put Aurors there to watch the whole village and its surroundings."

"No, we can't," said Hermione, "but Draco gave me an idea."

"What idea?"

"He told us that we could detect Dark magic performed with his wand or inside this house," she explained, and turned her head to look at the manor. "We can do the same to the entire village of Hogsmeade and its surroundings. If they use a place there — which is a really intelligent idea, because one would expect them to use lonely, hidden places to meet and make plans, not a house in a village — they're bound to do something dark inside sooner or later. We'll put a charm around Hogsmeade without telling anyone, and then — well, we'll have to wait for a sign of evilness."

There was a silence after she stopped talking, and she turned her head once more and saw that Ron and Harry were staring at her in awe.

"Hermione, you're simply brilliant," Ron said, and, for the first time since the attack in Diagon Alley, she smiled.

* * *

_Did you expect Goyle to be part of the Attackers? He's considerably less idiot than Malfoy, who, despite his many faults, is not that stupid to be involved again (and besides, he is not good, but he isn't a murderer, either)._

_Anyway, expect next chapter next week, when I'm back. Don't know exactly when. After that, I hope I'll be able to update a bit more frequently._


	13. Captured

_Well, the holidays are over! I've just realised that in the final note of last chapter I wrote Goyle was less idiot than Malfoy. No. Goyle is much more idiot than Malfoy._

_As always, thanks to __**Kathy**__ for her help._

_Ah, just a little note for American (or non-European) readers. In Europe, the ground floor of a house or building (the one at street or road level) is not the first floor. We call first floor to the floor above the ground floor. Just so you won't get confused._

* * *

**PART I**

**TALES OF NEW MYSTERIES**

_**Chapter 13**_

**Captured**

* * *

**PRISONERS ESCAPE WHILE BEING TAKEN TO AZKABAN**

_Last night, one Auror and three members of the Azkaban Guard Group were killed while they were taking seven prisoners to Azkaban._

_These seven prisoners, captured last week during a raid on a building near Bentham, Yorkshire, were judged by the Wizengamot yesterday (more information on page 5) and had received a life sentence in Azkaban. However, they never arrived at the prison. Around eleven o'clock last night, the officer in charge at Azkaban reported that nobody had arrived at the island, as was expected. A search was ordered, and the four Ministry officials were found, dead, in Cayton Bay Beach, near Scarborough._

_Although Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt refused to talk to _The Daily Prophet_, some officials of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement declared that they have 'no idea' about how the prisoners managed to escape, though they assured that the Ministry is making the 'biggest effort' to locate and catch them again. It seems that the seven prisoners received help, but how the people that helped them knew how or where to attack is unknown._

_With these four deaths, they are now nine Ministry officials that have lost their lives since these series of attacks began, and the Ministry seems unable to discover who is behind the organisation now widely known as 'The Attackers'._

_So far, no one had demanded anything from the Ministry or the Wizarding world, neither here nor in the other countries that are suffering these attacks._

_It is well known that war heroes Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, Aurors, have been on this case almost since the beginning, when Hermione Granger, also a war hero and Ronald Weasley's wife, suffered the first of these series of attacks. _The Daily Prophet_ has tried to talk to them, hoping that they could say something that would raise the morale of the Wizarding community, but they have been practically unreachable, especially since Julie Simmells, Ronald Weasley's trainee in the Auror Office, was murdered last week during the raid that ended with the capture of the seven Attackers that escaped._

Hermione stopped reading and looked up at Harry and Ron. The three of them were in her office.

Harry dropped onto a chair, angry, defeated and looking very tired.

"I don't know what to do anymore," he declared. "Seven prisoners. Seven!" he shouted. "And four people dead. Four!"

"Nobody knows how this could happen?" asked Hermione.

"No," Harry answered. "The prisoners are taken to Azkaban by Portkey. No one should have been able to intercept them, should they?" he asked, looking at Hermione.

"Not by any means that I know of," she answered thoughtfully.

"Some people think that there are traitors among us," interjected Ron. "And though I hate to think that, it seems likely. It has happened in the past. Otherwise, I don't know how they came to know that we had formed a secret group or how to free these seven bastards."

"But, outside the group, only Kingsley knew about it," replied Hermione. "And I refuse to believe that Kingsley may be a traitor."

"I know, but maybe he told someone, or someone heard us telling him — I don't know."

"Anyway, we have to go now," said Harry, and he sighed. "We have to try to catch them again, though we have no idea where to start."

Saying goodbye to her, Harry and Ron left the office. Hermione leaned against the back of her chair, and looked again at the front page of _The Daily Prophet_, at the photograph of the seven prisoners. They had been sentenced. She had been one of the people who had voted, as a member of the Wizengamot. Now they were free once more, and four more people were dead.

This attack had been the first since the day Percy had been abducted and Julie had been murdered. Though she wanted to believe that the people working in the Department— and by extension, in the Ministry — at the present time were honest and trustworthy, she was not stupid. She knew that Ron might be right; there would always be people willing to be part of evil things, so she was glad that they had not told anyone in the Ministry about her idea. She and Bill had worked on a charm for four days. Then Harry had summoned all the members of the group and, together, they had cast the charm over Hogsmeade and its surroundings. Nobody knew it was there, but the charm would alert them whenever Dark magic was used in its area of influence.

Of course, the seven prisoners had been thoroughly interrogated, but none of them had told them anything about the way they had been recruited or where they had had the first meeting with their master. The only place they seemed to know was that castle where they had been arrested. Goyle had admitted that he had run into Malfoy that day in Hogsmeade. He had confirmed that Draco had been there when he had met with the 'master' for the first time, and that Draco had refused to be part of it almost instantly. Whether that had happened the same day they had run into each other at Hogsmeade, he wasn't sure.

Hermione wondered about that mysterious 'master' once more. It was clear that he was clever and rather good at magic, but she questioned his actions. Why had he erased part of his servants' memories? Why had he cursed some of them and not others? Why had he let the four men that had attacked her remember the cave where they held their meetings and not let Goyle remember the place in Hogsmeade? Did that mean that the Hogsmeade location was really important and he didn't want the Ministry to discover it?

Hermione sighed and rubbed her eyes. She felt incredibly tired, and not precisely because Ron and she were awake until late every night. Their sex life during the last days had been non-existent. They had made love for the last time two days before Julie's death, ten days ago, and though part of her craved Ron, it was true that another part didn't feel in the mood at all. Julie's death had left them both very sad, and, besides, Ron usually seemed so frustrated with the lack of advances in the investigation about the mastermind behind this wave of violence that he could barely think about anything else.

And to add to it, he had begun to have nightmares again. The nightmares were not just related to Julie's death, but they were those sort of dreams in which he saw her die. He had had that dream again two days after Julie's death, and, since then, he had been drinking a Dreamless Draught every night. Shockingly, though, the potion had been absolutely useless. Hermione didn't understand how it was possible, because it was perfectly made. She had never heard about the potion failing, and had consulted with some people, expert potion-makers, but they were as puzzled as she was, and the only explanation they gave her was that either the potion wasn't properly done, or something else was preventing it from working. But what could that be?

The truth was that the nightmares had never disappeared, but, in the last month or so, they had become less frequent and sometimes Ron barely remembered having had them. But now they had become as strong as the first, and the only thing Hermione could do was embrace him and whisper soothing and loving words into his ear. Afterwards, when he fell asleep again, she usually remained awake for a while, thinking about everything that had happened, and remembering the time when she and Ron had talked about having 'a bad feeling,' and about how that feeling had turned into an awful reality, worse than anything they could have imagined.

Sighing once more, she looked at the stack of files on her desktop. There were lots of bureaucratic paperwork related to the case; it included legal information about the people who had died, the prisoners, and other people who were being investigated or followed. Hermione wondered whether the answer to it all was inside those files. If it was, she simply couldn't see it. Or maybe there was no answer; maybe it was just a wave of murders with no goal, something that only had hate as a cause and didn't make sense at all.

She opened the first file, and began to read.

— — o — —

Harry, Ron and she couldn't coordinate their usual quick lunch together, so she didn't see them again until a few minutes past seven in the evening, when they came to fetch her to go back to The Burrow.

"So how was your day?" asked Ron while they walked towards the fireplaces of the Atrium. There wasn't much emotion in his voice, which went well with his slightly hopeless expression and his sagged shoulders. Harry didn't look much better.

"Tiring and boring," answered Hermione. Ron looked at her with surprise and raised an eyebrow.

"What's the difference with other days?" he asked a bit smugly.

Hermione glared at him.

"My job is not boring!" she argued hotly. "I happen to love it. I've told you lots of times that it is not about what I do, but what I can achieve! Lately it has been a bit too bureaucratic for my taste, that's all," she finished in a dignified voice.

"Okay," he said, and smiled a little.

She glared at him, feigning annoyance, but the truth was that she was pleased that he had teased her this way. It felt like ages since the last time he had done it. Even seeing him smile was so rare now that it was wonderful to watch it.

"And what about your day?" she asked.

"We went to Hogsmeade in the evening," Harry said. "Patrolled it for a while, but we didn't see anything suspicious. There are a few houses in which no one lives, and others that are empty most of the time, because their owners live somewhere else. But we don't have anything solid."

"I thought that, after a week, we would have achieved something with the spell," commented Ron, the smile now vanished, replaced by the frustrated expression he usually wore these days. "Maybe they don't use Hogsmeade anymore. Maybe they were never there. Or maybe the spell doesn't work."

"It works," assured Hermione, feeling the need to defend her work. "But yes, maybe they don't gather in the village or its surroundings anymore. Or," she added, "it is simply that it's too soon. We have to wait." They had reached the fireplaces, so she walked into one of them and disappeared, exiting the network a few seconds later through The Burrow's fireplace. Harry and Ron arrived just after her.

Everyone was already in the kitchen, waiting for them to have dinner. Everyone, that is, but Ginny. She had James in her arms and was sitting on the couch. Her eyes brightened when she saw them.

"Harry!" she said happily when she saw him appear. She stood up, and, being careful not to harm James, she hugged her husband. Hermione looked at her, a bit surprised. She seemed a bit nervous, and Hermione wondered whether something had happened.

They parted and Harry took James, who smiled at the sight of his dad. Harry returned the smile, looking at his son adoringly, and then focused his gaze on Ginny, who looked a bit flustered.

"Ginny, what's the matter? You look a bit —"

"I'm pregnant."

"— flustered and — wait, what?" he asked.

"I'm pregnant, Harry. We're going to be parents once more."

There was a brief moment of complete silence and then Hermione beamed and exclaimed happily, "Oh, Ginny, that's wonderful! Congratulations!"

"Another baby?" muttered Ron, who looked a bit taken aback.

Hermione wanted to hug her sister-in-law, but she looked at Harry's face and forgot about it. He seemed dumbstruck, and simply stood still, gaping at Ginny, for a few moments. And then, suddenly, he moved very fast and enveloped her in a strong one-arm hug.

"Oh, Ginny!" he exclaimed, and kissed her on the mouth very passionately.

Hermione smiled at them, but Ron looked away, his expression between amusement and disgust.

"Dinner's ready, what are you doing?" said Mrs Weasley, appearing in the doorway to the kitchen. She froze on the spot, a bit gobsmacked at the intense display of affection she was witnessing. "What's going on here?" she asked.

Harry and Ginny moved away, and, without answering, they headed for the kitchen. Ron and Hermione followed them.

"We're pregnant," Ginny blurted out the moment they walked past her mother and into the kitchen. Every conversation died out immediately, and all eyes focused on Ginny and Harry.

"You're what?" asked Mrs Weasley, moving to face her daughter and son-in-law.

"I'm pregnant, Mum."

"Preg—? Oh, Ginny!" Mrs Weasley shrieked, enveloping her in a hug. "That's wonderful!"

"Mum, you're crushing me!"

"Oh, Ginny, Harry, another baby! You make me so happy!"

Everyone stood up to congratulate the young couple, and Mr Weasley hurried to retrieve a bottle of wine and began to pour some for everyone to toast.

"Another baby this year," commented Hermione's mother with a smile. "There won't be a moment of tranquillity in this house when the family gathers."

"Which is wonderful!" Mrs Weasley said, beaming with happiness.

"How far along are you?" Hermione asked Ginny when they started to sit down to have dinner.

"A month and a half," answered Ginny. "That's what the spell told me."

Hermione made a quick sum.

"So — September," she said, a bit disappointed. "He or she will be in different year than our daughter."

Ginny nodded.

"Yes, it's a shame, I know. Just because of a few days."

"Don't worry, 'Ermione," interjected Fleur. "Your daughter will 'ave Audrey and Percy's child with her at 'Ogwarts. And I suppose zat Ginny and Harry's might 'ave company, too. Perhaps George and Angelina will decide to start a family, too."

Ginny snorted. "I don't see George with a child yet."

"Well, he should start thinking about it; they're almost thirty!" Mrs Weasley commented.

Dinner that night was a lot nicer than the preceding days, and when they headed up for bed, Hermione felt a bit happier.

"It is nice, another niece of nephew," she commented while she took off her clothes to get into bed.

"Yes, it is wonderful," answered Ron. "Our daughter will have at least two cousins her same age to play with."

Hermione smiled and put her folded clothes in the wardrobe. She was going to get her pyjamas when she felt Ron embrace her from behind. He rested his chin on the top of her head and pressed her against him. He was just in his pants, and the feeling of his naked chest against her back caused her skin to tingle.

"I've been a horrible husband to you lately," he said suddenly.

"What?" Hermione said, and manoeuvred between his arms so she could face him. "Why are you saying that?"

Ron looked down, not at her face, but lower.

"It's been a while since the last time we made love," he commented. "And I've been sad and frustrated and in a bad mood." He looked into her eyes and caressed her cheek softly. "I'm sorry."

Hermione felt her heart rate quicken, and the immense love she felt for him flooded her completely at his words.

"You don't have to be sorry!" she replied vehemently. "Ron, I haven't been in the mood lately, either. And with what's happening ..." she shook her head. "Julie — Julie's death affected us all, Ron. And then those — those ... _bastards_ not telling us anything useful. You have nothing to be sorry for."

"But I am," he replied. "I don't want you to think that I find you less attractive just because you're pregnant," he explained, and his right hand travelled south until it was resting on her belly. "I find you as attractive as ever, or even more."

"I know," she said softly, and cupped his face with her hands.

"I love you, Hermione," he said a bit huskily, and moved his hands to her arse, cupping it and making her gasp in surprise. "I love you. Today should be a happy night. Despite everything, another life is coming. And we are still here, and alive, and fighting."

"Yes, we are."

"And I want you. I want you very much."

"Oh, Ron ..." she moaned, and then brought his head to hers and kissed him hard, as though she wanted to drink him.

Ron kept massaging her arse through her knickers, and then his hands slid upwards and he unsnapped her bra. Without stopping kissing him, she manoeuvred to take it off, and, before it had touched the floor once Hermione had dropped it, Ron's hands were on her breasts, kneading them almost desperately.

"Have I ever told you I love your tits?" Ron asked huskily, stroking her nipples with his thumbs and making her moan.

"Like a million times or so," she whispered.

"Good," he said, and leaned forwards to take one in his mouth. He sucked hard, eliciting new moans from her.

"Ron ..."

"And I think they're already getting bigger," he added, kissing her midriff and pressing them against his face. "Though maybe it's just wishful thinking ..."

"Ron!"

"What?" he said, looking up at her. His eyes were filled with lust. "Mmh, I'd love to put my cock between them, Hermione, feel their softness enveloping me ..."

He sucked her right nipple again, and she felt a shiver run down her spine and goosebumps form all over her skin. On one side, she felt a bit disgusted by his words, but on the other she felt strangely turned on by them.

"I'm sure you would," she finally said, cupping his face and forcing her mouth on his. After a few seconds of heated snogging, she released his mouth and slid hers along his jaw, leaving a trail of soft kisses, until she reached his right ear, and then whispered as seductively as she could, "But I'd prefer another part of me, which is very wet right now, to envelope you ..."

"Merlin, Hermione!" Ron groaned. He put his hands on her back and pressed her hard against his body, and then began to kiss and bite her neck. Hermione slid her hands up and down his sides, and then moved her right one to cup his very hard cock. He gasped audibly.

"I want this," she said into his ear, and sucked on his earlobe.

"It's all yours."

Hermione pushed Ron, making him fall onto the bed. Then she leaned over him, gave him a passionate kiss on the mouth, and began to descend, leaving a trail of kisses on his torso, while making sure her hard nipples brushed against his hot skin. She smiled, feeling him squirm under her ministrations. When her mouth reached his stomach, she fixed her eyes on his, grabbed the waistband of his boxers and eased them off. His cock sprang free. Without breaking eye contact, she slid her breasts over it, and even pressed them together with her hands around the hard shaft.

"Fuck, Hermione!" he moaned, his eyes the size of saucers. She moved up and down slowly a few times, and his face contorted in pleasure. However, he didn't close his eyes, as if he were unable to stop looking at what she was doing to him. That knowledge made her feel wanton and sexy.

She bit her bottom lip in the way Ron loved, and then slid down even further, until her mouth was just above his cock, and then licked it, from his balls to the tip, before engulfing it in her mouth. Ron almost jumped on the bed.

"FUCK, YES!"

Hermione started to suck him, slowly, pressing her lips around it as tightly as possible. She put her hands on his thighs, and, as her head bobbed up and down, she began to caress his legs, brushing his balls every time her hands reached his hips.

Finally overwhelmed by the pleasure, Ron closed his eyes and tilted his head backwards, moaning very loudly. Enthralled by her effect on him, she began to speed up her movements. Soon, she felt him twitch in her mouth, and she stopped. He opened his eyes and looked at her quizzically, but she didn't say anything. She simply crawled up his body until her face was again above his. They stared at each other for a moment, and then Ron brought her head down, making their mouths clash. They kissed passionately, and she felt Ron's hand travel down her body until they were on her arse, pressing her against him. Hermione moaned into his mouth, and then stopped the kiss. She raised her head a bit and, looking into his eyes, she said, "Finger me, Ron. Now."

Ron groaned again, even more huskily than before. A moment later, his right hand was under her knickers, teasing her wet slit. She moaned in pleasure and relief.

Ron stroked her clit a few times, and then slid his middle finger inside her, using his palm to rub her hard.

"God, Ron, God! Yes, love, don't stop!"

"Fuck, Hermione, I don't know what's got into you today, but I love it."

"Talk less and move your hand quicker!"

Ron did as told, and, while he fingered her with his right hand, he used his left arm to bring her mouth back to his. They kissed again, her moans muffled by his mouth, but she had to stop soon, because kissing him didn't allow her to get all the air she needed. She raised her head and began to pant heavily, moving her body wantonly against his, seeking more friction from his hand. Ron, having his mouth free from hers, began to suck on her breasts.

Hermione's breathing became even more ragged. She felt herself on the brink of orgasm, but, before reaching it, she stopped Ron's hand. He released the nipple he had in his mouth and looked at her questioningly. As an answer, Hermione just discarded her knickers hurriedly and impaled herself on his cock, making them both moan loudly in pleasure.

"Fuck, Hermione! You feel so good!"

"So do you, Ron!"

Hermione didn't take time to adjust to him. She was too worked up, so she began to ride him hard, and, in less than half a minute, she was coming. Hard.

"Oh, oh, RON!"

"Yes, love, come for me, come around me!"

After a few seconds of thrashing above him, she let her body fall on his, too satisfied and too tired to move.

"Oh, Ron ..." she sighed happily. "It was fantastic. I can't barely move."

"Too bad," he said, his cock still hard inside her, "because I'm not done. And I want you on your hands and knees."

"I'd love to, but I don't know if my legs can hold me ..."

"Okay, but you owe me a view of that arse of yours," he told her playfully, before making them roll on the bed, so he was now above her, propped on his arms so as not to crush her or her belly. She felt his gaze on her, lusty and predatory, and moaned in delight when he thrust hard into her.

"Oh, Ron!"

Ron began to move in earnest. She arched her back, giving him an excellent view of her breasts, and he took advantage of it, kneading them with one hand, while he grabbed her left hip with the other.

"Fuck, Hermione, you feel so good ... I'm so close ..."

"Do it," she asked. "Come inside me, Ron."

Ron closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. Hermione watched, in awe, the pleasure fill his face. He thrust a few more times, harder than before, and then grunted, burying his cock in her to the hilt and coming hard.

Totally spent, and panting heavily, he kissed her on the mouth softly before lying beside her. She kissed him again and let him embrace her. She snuggled into his warm and sweaty body.

"I love you, Ron. And I needed this, to feel you, to be close to you. Thank you."

Ron smiled at her. "I think we both needed it," he said, pulling a strand of hair from her face. "And I should be the one thanking you."

Ron pulled the sheet and blankets over them, and, after sharing a few more kisses, they fell asleep.

— — o — —

Hermione sat on the bed and started putting on her shoes while casting a glance at Ron, who was trying to comb his hair with a frown on his face. She smiled a bit, feeling the happiest she'd been in weeks.

"Ready?" he asked her, turning round to face her. "I'm really hun—"

"RON! RON, COME HERE, WE HAVE TO GO!"

Both Hermione and Ron looked at the door, and, a second later, they were hurrying down the stairs.

"What's happened?" Ron asked when he saw Harry in the living room. "What's the matter?"

"I've just received a call from the Ministry," Harry explained quickly. "There was an attack tonight. A family in Mould-on-the-wold was murdered."

"But our charms —" started to say Ron.

"There were not Muggleborns," commented Harry.

"They weren't?" asked Hermione, surprised.

"No," answered Harry. "We have to go."

"I'm going to the office, too, surely there's a lot of —" began to say Hermione resolutely.

"No way," said then her mother, who was watching the scene from the kitchen's door. "You haven't had any breakfast."

"Harry and Ron haven't, either, and —"

"They're not pregnant," her mother replied in a very serious tone. "You are eating for two now, and shouldn't forget about it."

"Your mother is right, Hermione," Mrs Weasley added.

"All right," she nodded, knowing that arguing would be useless and that they were right. She looked at Harry and Ron. "See you later, then. Be careful, okay?"

"We always are," Ron said, kissing her.

Ginny kissed Harry, too, and then they both left through the fireplace.

Hermione stood there for a few seconds, just staring at the flames, and then followed the rest of the family to the kitchen.

"Does anyone know what exactly has happened?" she asked when she sat down on a chair next to Ginny.

"Some Auror from the Ministry called," answered Ginny. "I don't know him. He just said that there had been an attack, that a family had been murdered, and that none of them was Muggleborn."

"But I thought all this was precisely some sort or crusade against Muggleborns," interjected Hermione's father. "I mean, all those attacks were always against them, weren't they?"

"Theoretically, yes," answered Hermione. "Though there had been a lot of half-bloods and pure-bloods that have died, too. Mainly Aurors, but other people as well, like the man who died in Diagon Alley."

"Can we talk about something else, please?" asked Mrs Weasley, who looked very nervous. Everyone looked at her. "I think we should invite George and Angelina and Percy and Audrey over to dinner, so we can properly celebrate the good news," she said, looking at Ginny and putting a big smile on her face.

"I zeenk that's a wonderful idea," commented Fleur.

"Yeah, okay," said Ginny, nodding.

"Well, we have to go," said Hermione's mother, checking her watch and standing up.

"Me too," Hermione added. "See you all at dinner."

"Hermione, you've barely eaten!" Mrs Weasley reprimanded her.

"I'm not hungry, Molly. I'll eat something later, okay? See you in the evening."

Mrs Weasley stared at her, and Hermione could hear her sigh while she threw Floo powder at the flames and stepped into them.

The first thing that Hermione did when she walked into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was try to find out what exactly had happened. However, most of the Aurors were gone. Wilson was there, though, talking to a woman Hermione knew was an Auror, too, but whose name she didn't know. For a few moments, she pondered whether to ask him or not, but, finally, her need to know overpowered the loathing she felt towards him.

"Good morning," she said to them. They stopped talking and turned their heads towards her. The woman looked at her with curiosity, but Wilson's expression turned to one of disgust when he saw her.

"Granger," he said. "What do you want?"

"Do you know what happened? To that family?"

Wilson tilted his head. "That's Auror's business," he replied. "But you can ask you husband when they come back. Neither he nor Potter show any respect for rules or secrecy, so I'm sure they won't have a problem with telling you."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, feeling a sudden desire to slap him.

"In case you've forgotten, I'm a member of the Wizengamot. I'm authorised to know this."

"Oh, _that. _Yes, I suppose that the fact that you're the youngest member in thirty years has nothing to do with your friendship with the Minister and your fame."

Hermione felt her blood boiling inside her veins.

"Well, you could have my fame if you had done something eight years ago!" Hermione yelled. "But you didn't, did you? And I see that hasn't changed, as you're _here_."

"Well, certainly I didn't get any Aurors killed!" he retorted. "Your husband, on the other hand, not only let those responsible for this escape, but couldn't save Simmells, either!"

Hermione felt her face heat up with anger. How dare he say that? She was about to reply, but Wilson had not finished.

"But maybe you don't care about that. There have been rumours, you know. About them. Maybe you're glad she's dead."

"Sean!" the other woman said, taken aback.

"What?" he asked, looking at her. "Don't look so scandalised; you think they had an affair, too!"

Hermione looked at her. Their eyes met and then the Auror lowered her gaze, blushing and ashamed. "No, I don't," she defended herself. "It was a joke — just a joke. I don't really —"

"You're despicable," Hermione spat, looking at Wilson once more. "How dare you say something so — so loathsome? Julie was _my friend_! Ron did everything he could to save her, and you're just lucky he isn't here, because if he heard you say that, he would rip your insides out. I see you don't have the information I wanted, so goodbye," she added, and wheeled around, ready to storm out of there before she could do something she would regret.

"We only know that a family has been attacked," said the Auror woman suddenly, causing Hermione to stop dead and turn her head. "One of their neighbours heard something and called us. That's all."

"Thank you," Hermione said, and resumed walking, frustrated at the lack of information and furious at Sean Wilson. She asked one of the secretaries to inform her the moment Ron and Harry came back, and then headed for her office, locked herself in it and dropped onto her chair, letting out a sigh.

"Calm down," she told herself. "He's just an idiot; don't mind him. Don't let him get to you; that's what he wants. Just focus on your work."

She was about to open one file when someone knocked at her door. She invited them in and the door opened to reveal Kingsley and Percy, both looking extremely serious.

"Good morning," she greeted them. "Minister, do you know anything else about what happened. Harry and Ron are there and —"

Kingsley rubbed his eyes while Hermione observed him. She hadn't seen him in a few days, and it was obvious that the escape and this attack hadn't had a good effect on him. He looked extremely tired.

"There's no need to be so formal, Hermione," Kingsley said, and sighed. "I'm sorry, but I don't have time to talk right now. I must meet Pamwyck and then we have to head to the Department of International Magical Cooperation for a meeting. We came to see you because we think you should come, too."

"If you need me, yes, I can go," she said, standing up and joining them at the door.

"You two wait for me here, then," Kingsley asked, and headed off to where Pamwyck's office was. Hermione followed him with her eyes until he disappeared behind a corner, and then looked at Percy.

"What's happened, Percy?" she asked.

He sighed before answering.

"The attack in Mould-on-the-Wold wasn't the only one last night," he explained. He opened the folder he was carrying and read something on it. "There were six deaths in France, two wizards and four Muggles; four in Spain, all wizards and witches; and three in Germany, a family of three wizards. We have rumours about an attack in Ireland, too, but we don't have confirmation yet."

"Oh, Merlin ...!" she exclaimed, covering her mouth with her right hand. "All this, just in a single night?"

"Yeah," nodded Percy. "Terrible, I know. We're going to have a meeting with representatives of those countries to see what we can do. The morale is pretty low right now, though," he added darkly.

"I know," Hermione nodded. They didn't keep talking, because a minute later Kingsley appeared again, with Pamwyck walking alongside him. The four of them fetched Blevelty — who looked awful, in Hermione's opinion — and they headed off for the fifth level, where a few delegates from other countries awaited them in a large room with a big circular table in the middle.

It wasn't a fun morning. Each of the delegates explained what had happened in their countries during the last hours and made a recount of all the crimes the group had committed. A few minutes before ten, an interdepartmental memo came flying and landed just in front of Blevelty. Silence fell over the room and everyone watched him as he unfolded and scanned its contents.

"It's a report about what happened in Mould-on-the-Wold," he said.

"And what does it say?" Kingsley asked, pressing him.

Blevelty gulped and Hermione laid her eyes on his trembling hands and the shaking piece of parchment before looking again at his face, now even paler than before. Hermione felt suddenly very anxious and afraid. Was it so terrible, what had happened?

"The victims are a family, the Warwicks," he started to explain. "Samuel Warwick, his wife Helena and his mother, Griselda. The three are dead, and there is evidence that they were tortured before being killed. They —" Blevelty seemed unable to continue, and had to make a brief pause to be able to keep talking. "They have two sons. One of them, Arley, is just fourteen years old, so he is at Hogwarts. The — the other, Elmore, was twenty and works for Nimbus, the company of racing brooms, but he still lived in the family house."

"_Works_?" repeated Hermione, narrowing her eyes. "He is alive, then?"

"That is unknown," responded Blevelty. "His bed was unmade, but he wasn't there. It looks as if he's been kidnapped."

"Kidnapped?" asked Ramón Ferrera, the Spanish delegate. "But why? These people had never kidnapped anyone; they just torture and kill."

"Well, it is usual, but I was kidnapped by them, too," replied Percy darkly.

"Oh," muttered Ferrera. "Sorry, I didn't know that. But why?"

"I don't know," said Percy. "They didn't ask me anything, though it is true that I was rescued very quickly."

"Is there a reason for that boy to be kidnapped?" Pamwyck asked. "What does the family do? None of them is a Ministry employee, are they?"

"No," confirmed Blevelty. "The family owns a shop in Mould-on-the-Wold. They sell all sorts of things, so the wizard families living there don't have to go far for their daily shopping."

"Any connections with any of the prisoners or Death Eaters?" Kingsley wanted to know.

"Not that we know of."

"Do we have any clues?" asked Pamwyck.

"Nothing," Blevelty said. "No one saw anything. One of their neighbours heard screams around seven o'clock this morning, and he was the one who informed the Ministry, but he didn't see anyone."

The meeting ended half an hour later, after the representatives of the four ministries had made a deal to collaborate even more and share immediately all the available information. Once outside the room, Hermione said goodbye to Percy and Kingsley and went back to her office, where she stayed, busy due to all the paperwork, until lunchtime, when Ron and Harry came to her office with a bag of sandwiches.

"We don't have much time to eat," Harry explained giving her hers, "We're doing everything in our power to try to find that poor boy. We even checked the cave and that house they took Percy to."

"And?" asked Hermione, and took a mouthful of her sandwich. She hadn't realised how famished she was.

"Nothing," answered Ron after swallowing audibly. "We didn't really expect to find anything. After all, we have Surveillance Charms around those places."

"Why do you think they took him? Elmore Warwick, I mean."

"Who knows?" Ron said. "None of this makes any sense, after all." He spat, and bit his own sandwich rather viciously, as if it was the cause of why they couldn't understand was what happening.

"I hope you can find him before — well, before they kill him," said Hermione. "He's the only relative his brother has, isn't he?"

"Well, their grandparents, his mother's parents, are alive," Harry answered. "Arley's with them right now."

"Oh, that's good, I suppose," Hermione commented.

"We have to go," said Ron, before devouring the last bit of his sandwich and swallowing it practically without chewing on it. "Time is against us."

"Yeah," nodded Harry as he stood up, "though it isn't as if we have any lead to follow. Goodbye, Hermione."

Hermione Vanished the bag and the rest of their meals. Ron kissed her and then both men left the room, leaving Hermione alone with her paperwork.

It was three hours later when she felt the ringing sensations in her head, as if she had an alarm clock inside it, which had gone off. For a few seconds, she simply remained in her chair, sitting, wondering whether she had become insane, until she realised what was happening.

"The charm!" she shouted, jumping to her feet. "Someone has used Dark magic!"

Quickly, she left her office and ran towards the Auror Office, eager to see Harry and Ron, but they weren't there, and almost all the cubicles were empty. She hurried towards Blevelty's office, but he wasn't there, either.

Making up her mind in just a fraction of a second, she wheeled around and headed off towards the lifts, causing everyone to look at her in bewilderment.

She entered a lift that had just arrived and went down quickly. Once in the Atrium, she stormed off and headed for the Apparition point, turned on the spot and Apparated right in front of Dervish and Banges.

Immediately, she was slapped by the cold wind, which made her shiver. It was almost night there, and the streets were still covered in dirty snow in some places. In the distance, she could see the lights of the highest towers of Hogwarts.

"You heard it too?" someone asked behind her.

She gave a start, frightened, and spun around to look at the person who had spoken, wand in hand.

"LUNA!" she exclaimed. "You almost scared me to death!"

"Sorry," the blonde girl said. "Did you feel it? The alarm?"

"I heard it, yes," Hermione explained, and looked around once more. There was no one in the street besides the two of them.

"I did, too," said Luna. "At first I thought I had been attacked by a particularly vicious Wrackspurt, but then I remembered the charm and Apparated here."

"Have you seen anyone else?" Hermione asked. "Harry or Ron?"

"No," Luna answered. "I Apparated just —" she didn't finished her sentence, because three more pops signalled the Apparition of more people, just a few yards away from them. They were Harry, Ron and Terry Boot.

"Ron! Harry!" Hermione yelled, walking quickly towards them.

"Hermione?" Ron said, shocked. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard it," said Hermione. "Luna too."

"You shouldn't have come!" Ron scolded her.

"I tried to find you in your office and you weren't there and — Never mind that, we're wasting time!"

"You can't —" began to say Ron, but was interrupted by the loud sound of a door being opened with too much force, the one belonging to _The Three Broomsticks_, and thanks to the light filtering through some windows, Hermione recognised Neville and Dean, who were now running towards them.

"I felt it!" shouted Neville when he saw the group. "I took the Floo to the pub, and ran into Dean," he finished, panting rather heavily.

"Heard it, too," said Dean. "Don't know where Seamus is ..."

"Are more Aurors coming?" asked Neville.

"I sent Scrivenshaft to fetch a team," answered Terry. He looked at Harry and Ron. "Should we wait?"

"If we wait, it might be too late," said Ron, with a very determined expression etched upon his face. "Hermione, you should go home — or wait at the Three Broomsticks."

"Do you know how to use the charm to locate the house?"

Ron swore loudly.

"I want you to be behind me all the time. And if I tell you to Disapparate or to run —"

"— I'll do it," she finished for him. "I promise."

"Which way?" he asked her.

Hermione closed her eyes and focused on the ringing sensation in her brain.

"That way," she said, pointing to a path that started as an alleyway and then led towards one of the forests that surrounded the village.

"Come on!" Harry shouted, and they started to run.

"Are there houses this way?" Dean asked. "I've never been here."

"A few," answered Ron, "but most of them are empty."

Soon the main part of the village was behind them and they were under the trees and surrounded by darkness. They passed a silent, empty house on the right of the path, turned to the left and then they stopped, almost at the same time. Fifty yards ahead of them, in a clearing surrounded by a few trees, there was a two-story house that looked almost abandoned in the diminishing light. Because the charm was telling her so, she knew that that house was the place where Dark magic had been performed, and now that they were closer, the others probably were noticing it, too.

"Let's cast an Anti-Disapparition charm all around," said Ron. "Hermione, can you —?"

"Yes."

"I'll help you," piped up Luna.

They got closer to the house in complete silence. The only noise they could hear was the movement of the branches of the trees due to the soft breeze. Hermione and Luna stayed behind the rest of the group and then they parted ways, Hermione walked towards the left and cast the charm over the house and the surrounding area. Luna, who had moved to her right, did the same.

The others, protected by the growing darkness, got closer to the house. Once they were just a few yards away, Harry pointed his own wand at the house and muttered, "_Homenum Revelio!_"

Everyone waited, expectantly, for the answer. Harry looked around, at all of them, furrowing his brow.

"There's just one person inside. But it is as if they were weak, or dying."

"Just one?" repeated Terry. "Could it be the boy?"

Harry didn't answer, and instead turned to look at the house.

"Let's go in."

They moved towards the front door very carefully. Terry tried the doorknob and the door opened, creaking slightly, revealing what looked like a large room in complete darkness. They paused for a moment and listened attentively for any sign of life, but no sound was heard. The house was completely silent. Hermione felt a shiver run down her spine. That house surrounded by trees and the darkness that concealed the insides of the building from them was making her hairs stand on end.

"Don't touch anything with your hands," Ron warned them in a stern, grave voice, and Hermione felt the sudden need to be by his side, but Dean and Neville were between them. He turned his head and looked around at the dark forest that surrounded them. Hermione knew what he was thinking. Even if there was only one person in the house, it didn't mean that others couldn't be lurking outside. He looked back at her. "Hermione, I want you behind us."

"I know," she said.

"_Lumos_," whispered Harry, and his wand lit up and illuminated the room.

It was immense. It seemed as though someone had removed the inner walls to turn the ground floor into a single large room. Harry moved the beam of light across the floor, revealing that it was covered in dust. However, many footprints could be seen. A lot of people had been there very recently.

"What's that?" asked Terry.

"What?" said Harry, as he stopped moving his hand.

"There was something big and black on the floor. Move the light backwards."

Harry did as told, but more slowly, and soon, the light lit something.

"It looks like ... a person," said Neville.

"You reckon?" Luna said, getting closer.

"I think Neville's right," muttered Harry, and then went in.

Terry, Ron and Neville followed him, and the three lit up their wands as well. Dean, Luna and Hermione did the same.

Hermione made a quick inspection. There was not just one room. In the farthest corner from them, there was what looked like a small room, with a door that was ajar. Next to it was a staircase that led towards the first floor.

Ron and Neville pointed their wands at the staircase, clearly ready to attack anyone who might appear suddenly, and began to walk towards it, when they all heard a loud gasp of surprise.

"Oh, fuck!" almost shouted Terry.

"What?" asked Harry.

"It's a body ... a dead person." All the beams of light converged on Terry. He had moved towards the shape Harry's light had illuminated before, and was crouching down next to him. "He's wearing the same robes the Attackers used to wear."

"It is not the only one," Luna commented suddenly. Everyone followed the beam coming off her wand that was illuminating another body, immobile in a sitting position on the left corner. "And there is another just there," she added, moving the light to the right. Another body was lying on the floor just under a window.

Hermione moved her own wand all around, and noticed that there were more bodies. At least, ten. Most of them had their hoods on.

"What the hell has happened here?" muttered Harry.

Terry moved to another body, and took the hood off it. "It's that bitch, the one that escaped yesterday," he commented. "She's dead, too."

"This one is dead as well," said Neville, who was kneeling next to another body. "I saw his photo on the _Prophet_ — another one of those who escaped yesterday. No injuries ... looks like the Killing Curse — but who did it? And why?"

Hermione walked towards another of the bodies, a rather bulky one, lying on and old couch next to the wall. Feeling pretty apprehensive, she used her wand to reveal the face of the person ... a known face.

"This one is Goyle," she informed the others.

"Goyle?" Ron repeated, looking at her, and she nodded, gulping. Despite everything, she felt an odd feeling knowing that she had known this person, who was now dead ... Someone who hadn't learnt anything from what had happened to his old friend Crabbe...

"This doesn't make any sense," commented Terry. "Who did this? And how?"

"It doesn't look as if they had put up a fight," reckoned Neville.

"Use the wand!" Hermione heard Ron shout, and turned her head to look at him. He was near the staircase, and was looking at Luna, who had her arm stretched out, her hand inches away from the door of the small room. Luna nodded and used her wand to push the door open.

Hermione, curious and afraid, walked towards Ron while she counted the bodies. There were eleven. Eleven dead people in that eerie house...

She shivered again and clutched Ron's hand in hers when she reached him.

"There's another woman here," said Luna in a low voice, moving aside so Ron and Hermione could see into the small room, which was a bathroom. The woman, dressed in the characteristic black robes, had her face uncovered and was on the floor, encased between the wall and the toilet. She was in her thirties and was quite pretty.

"Twelve," Hermione heard Harry say as he walked towards them. "And the seven that escaped yesterday are all among them."

"The person who is alive is upstairs, then," said Terry, looking at the ceiling.

"It's him," said Ron.

"Who?" asked Neville. "The boy?"

"The Attackers' boss, their master. The one who killed Julie."

"How do you know?" Hermione asked him. Ron didn't look at her. He was staring at the ceiling very intensely, his face serious, stern and determined.

"I have the same sensation as when — when I saw him the last time. I _know_ it's him. I just do." Hermione noticed he seemed very scared now. He looked at her. "I don't like this."

Harry put a hand on his right shoulder. "This time he won't surprise us. We're all together. Let's catch him once and for all."

Ron looked at Harry gratefully, and then laid his eyes on Hermione once more.

"Stay behind, with Luna and Dean. Aurors and ex-Aurors first."

"Ron —" she started to say. She knew he was right, but she has a bad feeling, too, and didn't want him to be away from her.

"I'd send you home if you could Apparate. As you can't, you'd have to walk out and get away from the house, but I don't want you out of my sight. Not when that monster is so close."

Hermione nodded and moved backwards. Ron, Harry, Terry and Neville began to climb up the wooden stairs, which creaked rather loudly. She heard the boys talk in a low voice as they went up, and, a moment later, Terry turned his head to look at them and motioned for them to go up.

"You can come."

When Hermione reached the top of the staircase, saw that, like downstairs, the inner walls had been removed, However, this level didn't have a big room and a small one. Instead, there was a wall that divided the floor in two, with just one closed door in the middle. Again, almost all the furniture had been taken away. There were just about two dozen old, rickety chairs placed right next to walls, as if this room was a place for meetings, or reunions or —

Or ceremonies.

Was it here where Draco Malfoy and the others had been brought to become members of the Attackers?

And there were another four bodies there, too: a woman and three men. Had they killed one another? Though, by the places the bodies were in, that theory seemed unlikely. Had someone found and killed them by surprise? But, that being the case, why was their leader alive, assuming Ron's instincts were right and he was the living one left here?

Hermione stopped thinking about that, because Harry and Ron were now approaching the closed door. With growing anxiousness, she watched Harry point his wand at it. However, before he could open it. Ron seemed to change his mind and stopped him by putting a hand over Harry's. Harry looked at him, confused, but Ron, instead of explaining, made everyone move backwards.

When they were far enough, he pointed his own wand at the wall.

"_Reducto!_"

There was a bright flash of light, and the entire wall crumbled into pieces. The light coming off the wands lit up a room with two people in it.

One of them was sitting on a chair, his head hanging, and was motionless.

The other was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, dressed in a black cloak, and with an ample hood covering their head and hiding their face.

For just a second, the seven people on one side of the room and the person on the other observed one another, and then, as if they had shared a thought, Harry, Ron and Terry shot a Stunning Spell at the hooded figure.

He — Hermione remembered suddenly that Ron had told her he was a man — dodged them by rolling sideways on the floor.

While the three streaks of light hit the wall and a window, destroying it, the man took out a wand and aimed at them. A ball of golden flames burst from the tip of the wand and flew towards them, but was stopped by strong Shield Charms cast by Luna and Dean.

Hermione moved backwards, to get away from the fight, and cast a powerful Shield Charm around herself.

The man tried to get up while firing new, powerful spells that caused them to move away from one another. Harry threw three quick spells at him, but he was able to block them and move backwards, staggering a bit. Ron had described his movements as gracious and swift, but there was nothing gracious about the way he was moving now. He seemed ill, or a bit drunk.

Not knowing why, Hermione turned her head to look at Ron. He had stopped fighting and was doing nothing except staring at their enemy with an angry expression. And then, while their nemesis battled the others, trying to avoid capture, Ron pointed his wand at him slowly, as though thinking very carefully what he was going to do.

"_Deflagratio!_"

The man couldn't stop the curse, busy as he was, and it exploded just before him. It wasn't a very strong explosion, but more than enough to send him flying against the wall. He hit it hard and fell to the floor. His wand slipped from his fingers.

"_Accio wands!_" yelled Hermione immediately, and six wands flew towards her from different points of the room.

On the other side of the room, the enemy moved and moaned slightly.

Ron, fury etched upon his face, strode towards him. He was struggling to get on his hands and knees, but, before he could do it, Ron kicked him hard in the ribs, making him roll over and groan in pain.

"That's for Julie, you fucking son of a bitch!"

"Ron!" Hermione shouted, walking towards him. "Don't, please!"

The man tried to get up again, still moaning, but Neville shouted, "_Incarcerous!_" and he was suddenly tightly bound and unable to move.

Terry hurried towards the person in the chair and lifted his head to look at his face.

"It's Elmore Warwick," he said, a very sad note in his voice. "He's dead. Strangled, I can tell, from the marks on his neck."

"You fucking monster," Ron yelled spitefully at the wizard, his voice filled with unmistakable anger, "you deserve to rot in hell for all eternity." He grabbed him by his collar and put him in a sitting position roughly. "You mark my words: I'll make sure you don't see the sun ever again."

"Let's see who hides under the mask," said Harry, who had approached them.

Everyone got closer, too. As she walked, Hermione's wand's light fell over another body, a man, also dressed in Attacker robes and apparently dead. He must be the owner of the sixth wand she had retrieved with the Summoning Charm. She stared at him for a moment, and then resumed walking.

When everyone was surrounding their prisoner, Ron yanked him up forcefully and carelessly, and then held him against the wall. Harry got closer and yanked back his hood.

The light of the wands lit up very black and short hair, thin face, and penetrating grey eyes that were also bloodshot.

Hermione felt her blood run cold in her veins.

She had felt those eyes on her several times. She had stared at his face. She had been alone with him.

He was Aldus Adder, the healer that had been taking care of her pregnancy since the attack.

* * *

_Only three chapters left of part I ..._

_Next, this weekend._


	14. Sbalkal

_Nothing to say except to thank __**Kathy**__ for her help!_

* * *

**PART I**

**TALES OF NEW MYSTERIES**

_**Chapter 14**_

**Sbalkal**

* * *

"You ..." Hermione heard Ron mutter, still in shock. A moment later, extreme anger had replaced surprise on his face and, before anyone could do anything to prevent it, Ron punched the prisoner hard in the face, breaking his nose and making him fall to the floor once more.

"Ron, calm down!" shouted Harry, grabbing Ron's right arm to hold him back.

"This fucking murderer has had his hands on Hermione! His hands and his wand! He's been alone with her! I knew I had recognised his voice when he killed Julie!" He clenched his fists so tightly that Hermione feared he was going to draw blood. "I should kill him right now!"

"His hands on Hermione?" repeated Neville, shocked. "How come?"

"He's a healer," explained Harry, also angry. "The one who's been in charge of her pregnancy since the attack.

"Merlin!" muttered Terry, surprised.

Ron bent over, grabbed the healer by the ropes binding him and lifted him to his feet. His nose was broken, and his face bloodstained, but he didn't complain. He just looked at Ron with hate radiating from his bloodshot eyes.

Hermione felt numb, too shocked even to react. The kind healer that had tended to her after the first attack, that had told her about the disappearance of her file, and that had checked her pregnancy seemed to have gone. The eyes of this man were as cold as ice.

"Are you the one behind this all?" Harry asked him.

The man didn't say anything.

"What's happened here?" Harry continued. "Why are all your ... accomplices or whatever they are to you dead?"

Again, no answer.

Ron grabbed him by the front of his robes and stared directly into his eyes, his face inches apart from the other's.

"Answer us, or, I swear to Merlin, I'll kill you right here!"

But, once more, no answer came. The healer just remained there, looking at Ron, his face imperturbable except for the cold fury radiating from his eyes.

Ron shoved him against the wall and walked away, brushing his hands all over his face.

"Keep him away from me," he said. "Keep him away or I — I —"

Hermione got closer to him and hugged him tightly.

"It's over, Ron," she whispered to him, and she felt him embrace her in return. "It's over now. Over."

"Not until he's in Azkaban."

"He'll be," Hermione told him. "We'll make sure of that. He'll pay, Ron."

"Not enough," Ron replied, breaking from their embrace and looking at the prisoner. "No matter how many years he spends there, it won't be enough."

"Let's take him to the Ministry to interrogate him," said Harry.

"We'll have to send a team here," commented Terry. "To ... clean this mess."

"Yes," confirmed Harry. "Let's put some charms to block the access to the house until then."

Ron, Harry and Terry surrounded the man. Harry pointed his wand at his face and healed his nose and cleaned his face. While he did this, Hermione observed him. How could a person change so much, or feign so well? The times she had seen him at St Mungo's, he inspired trust, and seemed warm and kind. And now, the only thing that emanated from him was coldness, and the only feeling he caused in her was fear, though it could very well be caused by the fact that he had attacked her house, had murdered Julie, and had been the instigator of so many murders and other crimes. What she saw now was the real person. The healer had been, apparently, a very good disguise.

As if sensing her thoughts, he raised his head and fixed his cold eyes on hers. Almost immediately, Hermione shuddered. There was something in those eyes, something frightening that she didn't like.

"Don't you dare look at her," Ron threatened him, "or I'll curse your bloody eyes off."

"Come on," Terry said, nudging him with his wand. "Walk."

"Is Aldus Adder your true name?" asked Ron suddenly. "Answer!"

"Maybe," he said, talking for the first time.

"Maybe? Answer me!" demanded Ron, losing his patience.

"We don't need to know his name to lock him up," interjected Terry, looking at him with disgust. "Come on, walk," he ordered, shoving him forwards.

The group descended the stairs, crossed the room and then walked out of the house and into the night. Once they were outside, Hermione turned round and sealed the house magically so that no one could enter it.

Harry, Ron and Terry moved so they were out of the area affected by the Anti-Disapparition charm.

"We're going to take him to the Ministry," said Harry. "Can you go back to the village? I'm sure more Aurors have come, and maybe more people of the group, after hearing the alarm. You can inform them and tell the Aurors to take care of the house."

"Okay," nodded Hermione. "See you later at the Ministry, then."

Harry, Ron and Terry grabbed Adder and then Disapparated.

Hermione, Luna, Dean and Neville walked quickly towards the main part of Hogsmeade. Just after coming out of the forest, they began to hear the noise. Something was happening in the village.

When they turned round the corner and walked onto the main street, they saw a large group of people talking and walking around. Some of them were Aurors, but there were also George, Angelina, Seamus, Parvati, Lavender —

"HERMIONE!" It was Ginny, who was also there. She ran towards them. "What's happened?" she asked frantically. "Where are Harry and Ron?"

"We caught him," blurted out Hermione almost breathlessly. "The leader of the group. We found and caught him."

"You did?" Lavender asked, surprised. "Seriously?" Hermione nodded. "Where is he?"

"Harry, Ron and Terry took him to the Ministry," Hermione informed them. She looked around and spotted Scrivenshaft.

"There's a house," Hermione told him. "There are a lot of people there. All the Attackers, it seems. But don't worry, there's no danger. They're — well, you have to go and see it. Neville, can you show them the way?"

"No problem," he said. Scrivenshaft called the rest of the Aurors and they took off after Neville.

"I have to go to the Ministry now," Hermione told Ginny, George and Angelina. "Can you go home and tell everyone what has happened? I don't want them to worry."

Ginny nodded. "Okay, but don't be late. We want to know the details."

Promising she would be at home as soon as possible, she Disapparated to the Atrium. Immediately, she headed for the lifts, went up to Level Two and walked into the Department.

"Hey, Hermione!" A short, old woman who was walking in the opposite direction greeted her, obviously excited. "Know what? It seems that they captured him! The man behind all those crimes!"

"Yes, I know, Mrs Leap. Where are they?"

"They have him in the interrogation rooms, I think, but —"

"Thanks!" Hermione said and ran off without letting the other woman finish the sentence.

The Auror watching the entrance door let her go in without a simple question. She went directly into the watch room and found that Harry, Ron and Terry were there, accompanied by Blevelty, who was looking through the magical wall with a dumbfounded expression on his face that was bordering on incredulity. On the other side, Adder was sitting in a chair, his hands bound, and three Aurors were watching him.

"So it is him," Blevelty was saying, a note of awe in his voice. "You've really caught him."

"Yes," confirmed Harry. He looked at her when he heard her walk into the room. "Hi, Hermione. Everything's been taken care of in Hogsmeade?"

"Yes," Hermione answered. "Neville guided the other Aurors to the house, and I told the others what had happened. Ginny and George were there, too; they'll wait for us at The Burrow."

"Perfect," said Harry.

"You say that the Warwick boy is dead, along with a large group of Attackers?" Blevelty continued, his eyes still glued to Adder.

"There were seventeen bodies there, apart from Warwick's," Ron explained. "We think that's all of them."

"We're not completely sure, of course, 'cause he hasn't told us anything," Terry interjected.

"He will," affirmed Ron, narrowing his eyes and getting closer to the wall. "He'll tell us everything."

"We are going to investigate him before the questioning," said Harry. "We'll hold him in the cells in Lev—"

"No," said Ron, interrupting Harry, and everyone looked at him. "He'll wait in Azkaban."

"In Azkaban?" asked Hermione, surprised. "Why?"

"I don't want him here," answered Ron. "I — It is better if he's in Azkaban."

"You are afraid someone will try to release him?" asked Harry.

"No. It's just — I don't like him here. I don't feel all right having him here. I can't explain it."

"He's disarmed, Ron," said Harry. "And maybe a bit injured. You said he didn't move like the day he — he escaped from that castle. He looked very pale and his eyes were bloodshot." He turned his head and looked at Adder. "In fact, he still looks pale and ill."

"I know," said Ron, "but still, I don't want him here. Please, sir," he said, looking at Blevelty. "Let's take him to Azkaban."

"I agree with you," Blevelty responded. "Take him there and later bring him back for the questioning. Now I have to talk to the Head of the Department and the Minister." He looked at the four of them. "Very good job, lads. Very good job indeed." He sighed and looked again at Adder's immobile figure. "I hope this is the end of this nightmare. Goodnight," he added, and left the four friends alone.

Ron approached Hermione and grabbed her hands. She looked up at him.

"We're going to take him to Azkaban," said Ron. "It won't take us very long; we'll be home in an hour or so." He looked at Harry. "We have still something to celebrate, don't we?"

"Oh, the dinner!" exclaimed Harry. "I had completely forgotten!"

Ron grinned. "Don't worry. Mum won't have forgotten."

"I'll go home and tell everyone you're going to be a bit late," said Hermione. She smiled a bit. "It seems we have more reasons to celebrate tonight."

"Yeah, it seems so," Harry agreed, and smiled. "Let's go then. See you later, Hermione."

"Be careful," Hermione told him, and he and Terry left the room.

Ron put his hands on her waist and gave her a sweet kiss that lingered for a bit, causing her to close her eyes in pleasure.

"You be careful too," she whispered to him, looking into his eyes.

"Don't worry." He smiled at her, released her hands and headed for the door.

"Ron," she called him, and he turned round to face her once more, a quizzical look on his face. "Thanks for keeping your promise."

"Which promise?"

"You promised that you'd do anything, that no one would harm me or our daughter. And you kept it."

Ron stared at her.

"Hermione, it wasn't just me. And remember it was you who had the idea of putting the charm over Hogsmeade. You were, like always, the brilliant one," he finished, with a slight grin.

Hermione smiled at him in return, pleased. She loved that people recognised her work, but no one's praises made her feel what Ron's did.

"See you later, love," he said, and left the room.

Hermione turned to face the wall and watch what was happening in the other room. Harry and Terry were already there, looking down at Adder, who was staring at them impassively, as if the whole ordeal had nothing to do with him. A moment later, the door opened and Ron appeared.

"The last time we saw each other you were very eager to talk," Ron told him, his voice showing how much he despised the man sitting at the other side of the table. "Not so eager now you've been caught, are you?"

Adder look at Ron but his expression didn't change. He didn't answer, either.

"You told me I had a _nasty temper_," Ron continued, bending over the table and leaning towards him. "Well, fortunately for you, I can control myself, because every time I see you, I want to rip your insides out." Ron and Adder held their gazes for a few seconds. Ron's, angry and full of hate; Adder's, cold and unemotional. Finally, Ron straightened and moved a bit backwards. "Anyway, while we investigate what happened in that house, you'll spend a few days at Azkaban, the perfect place for someone like you. And after that, you'll tell us everything we want to know."

"The holding cells here at the Ministry are not good enough for me, then?" Adder said, shocking everyone. Hermione shuddered at his voice. How could it be so similar and yet so different from the voice he used when he talked to her in St Mungo's?

"Oh, so you can speak," Harry commented. "Well, if you want to know — no, we're afraid they're not good enough for you."

"You know what?" Ron added. "You're lucky the prison is no longer guarded by Dementors. Dealing with them would be exactly what you deserve."

Adder stared at him, an undecipherable expression on his face. "Bring them in, then."

Ron didn't answer to that.

"Let's go," he said. "The rest of us have lives, and we will be more than glad to be rid of you as soon as possible."

One of the Aurors behind Adder waved his hand, releasing him from the spells that bound him to the chair, and made him get up. The six Aurors led him out of the interrogation room.

Hermione waited for a while, alone. She didn't want to face the man anymore; she felt that, if she was in his presence once more, she wouldn't be able to stand it. She put her hands on her belly and caressed it lovingly.

"The nightmare is over, sweetheart," she whispered to her unborn child. "We are safe. We are safe."

After exiting the Interrogation area she headed for the Atrium and, from there, travelled to The Burrow through one of the fireplaces. When she stepped out of the flames, she saw that the house was bursting with activity. Everyone seemed to be there, in the living room, waiting and talking. The moment they saw her, she was flooded by questions.

"Please, don't talk at the same time," she pleaded, raising her hand as if to protect herself from the amount of questions thrown at her.

"Where are Harry and Ron?" Ginny asked.

"They are taking him to Azkaban," Hermione explained. "They say they'll be back in an hour or so."

"But last time Aurors tried to take one of them to Azkaban..." Mrs Weasley started to say, but let her voice tailed away.

"Don't worry, Molly," Hermione reassured her. "As it seems, all his Attackers are dead."

"All dead?" Bill asked, shocked. "How's that?"

"We don't know, and he refuses to say anything, but the house where we found him was full of dead bodies, included those of the seven escaped prisoners. He'll be in Azkaban until the questioning."

"'Who's 'e?" Fleur wanted to know.

"Aldus Adder," Hermione answered. Everyone stared at her in shock.

"What!?" her mother shouted. "Isn't — isn't he your healer? The one that's been taking care of you since the disappearance of the other one?"

"Yes," answered Hermione.

"A healer!" Ginny exclaimed. "_Your healer!_"

Hermione nodded once more.

"Why?" Hermione's mother asked. "Why did he do all this?"

"As I've said, he hasn't answered any questions."

"The Attackers," said Mr Weasley. "You said the house was full of bodies. How many?"

Hermione nodded. "There were seventeen of them."

"So it is over?" William Granger asked her daughter. "They are all in prison or dead?"

"So it seems," Hermione answered. "Though, of course, there's still the question of who killed them, and why." She hesitated for a moment before adding, "We found Elmore Warwick, too. He is dead."

"Oh," muttered Audrey. No one else said anything. Everyone seemed to be thinking about what they had heard, and silence fell over the room.

"Well..." began to say Mrs Weasley after a while. "Though terribly sad, I think we have a lot to celebrate. At least, we're safe once more. We should get the dinner ready for when Harry and Ron come home."

George looked at her mother.

"Yeah, about that ... are you going to tell us why we are here?" he asked.

"You'll know in due course," Mrs Weasley answered, walking towards the kitchen. "No more questions for now!"

Harry and Ron arrived home an hour and a half later, and told the family that they hadn't had any problem and that Adder was now in a high security cell at Azkaban. Besides, the house in Hogsmeade had been cleaned and the corpses had been retrieved. Elmore Warwick's had already been delivered to his family. Terry had been right: he had been strangled to death.

This left the kitchen in a rather gloomy mood, so, to cheer everyone up, Ginny looked at Harry, who nodded silently, stood up, and fixed her eyes on George, Angelina, Audrey and Percy.

"Well. Enough of bad news. Despite everything, it seems that this is over, and... well, I'm pregnant!"

"Oh, Ginny, that's wonderful!" Audrey exclaimed, beaming at her, and she got up and embraced her sister-in-law tightly. "It seems next year is going to be a bit hectic here!"

"Yeah, it does," Ginny said, smiling.

After the appropriate congratulations and hugs, the mood in the kitchen improved greatly, and soon everyone was drinking, talking and laughing.

At one side of the table, Hermione looked at Ron and took his hand in hers. When he turned his head to look at her and their eyes met, she smiled at him. He grinned back. They didn't say anything, but they didn't need to, because their eyes spoke for them.

Everything was going to be all right.

— — o — —

"I can't fucking believe this!" Ron yelled, throwing the copy of the _Evening Prophet_ to the floor angrily.

"What happened?" Hermione asked, walking into the cubicle and using her wand to retrieve the newspaper. It was the next afternoon, Harry and Ron had sent her a message saying that they were back and she had come to inform them about the research they had asked her to do.

"Read it," Harry said, pointing to the newspaper.

Hermione looked down at it and began to read

**LEADER OF THE 'ATTACKERS' CAPTURED**

_Seventeen members of the group mysteriously dead. Revenge of the Aurors?_

"Revenge of —? What's this?" asked Hermione, shocked.

"Keep reading," said Ron.

Hermione looked at the paper and resumed reading.

_Last night, a commotion in Hogsmeade resulted in the capture of the mysterious, and thus far unknown, leader of the group known as 'The Attackers,' who have been terrorising the Wizarding world for a few months._

_The Ministry has not yet revealed the identity of this man, but well-informed sources told _TheDaily Prophet_ about the fact that seventeen members of the group, including the seven that escaped two days ago, are dead._

_As it seems, the group that found and captured the leader — which included war heroes Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, and even Neville Longbottom and Hermione Granger, who are not Aurors — discovered him in a house full of dead bodies._

_However, the cause of these deaths has not been revealed or explained. Why is the Ministry being so secretive? As our readers will remember, Hermione Granger was the first victim of the group, though she managed to survive the attack. Since then, a large number of Aurors have been murdered, including Julie Simmells, friend and former apprentice of Ronald Weasley, whose temper is very well-known by the public. Considering all these facts, one can't help but wonder how those Attackers were killed. Could it have been some sort of vendetta? Is the Ministry, with Minister Shacklebolt — friend of the famous trio and former member of the Order of the Phoenix — on the top, hiding a _quicker_ and most definitive way of dispensing justice?_

Hermione stopped reading, furious and disgusted.

"Who's written this nonsense?" she asked, scanning the page. She felt a rush of hate surge inside her at the name. "Rita Skeeter! That cow!"

"Yeah," said Ron.

Hermione threw the newspaper onto the table. "That woman is nothing but a disgrace," she commented angrily. "How dare she?" She looked at Ron and tried to calm down. "Never mind that piece of rubbish, Ron; no one will believe her."

"There are always people ready to believe things like that, Hermione."

"Well, if someone is that stupid to believe it, then they're not worth your time!"

"Look on the bright side of this," Harry said.

Ron glared at him. "_Bright side_? Where's the bright side of this?"

"Well, so far, you're the only one of us that never got bashed by Rita Skeeter," Harry commented. "Hermione and I suffered it in school. Now we've got one more thing in common!"

"Oh, very funny!" Ron fumed. "If you didn't notice, this article _accuses_ all of us."

"But not as explicitly as it accuses you."

"Forget that," Hermione pleaded. "If we let this affect us we're giving her what she wants. I came to tell you about the house."

"Did you discover something?" asked Harry, suddenly serious.

"The house is his, Adder's," she informed them. "He bought it a year and a half ago."

"Really?" Harry asked, surprised. "Curious."

"Why?" Hermione wanted to know.

"If he bought the house a year and a half ago, then that's the first thing we know about him," Harry answered.

"What do you mean?"

"He started working at St Mungo's seven months ago," Ron explained, "but before that, there's not a trace of him. It is as if he didn't exist previously. We don't know where he came from."

"No one knows him?"

"He didn't go to Hogwarts. We searched old registries and family books, and he comes from nowhere. There's no magical family called 'Adder.' At least, not here in Britain. Maybe he's a foreigner. Or maybe he is using a fake name."

"They're bringing him here," Harry interjected. "It's time for a thorough questioning. And if he doesn't want to answer, we'll use Veritaserum."

"And once we know the answers, a trial date will be set."

"I want to be there," Hermione said.

"Where?"

"At the interrogation. I want to ask him why."

"Hermione ..." Ron began.

"I want to be there, Ron. I want to face him and ask him why. Why did he order the attack on me? Why did they take my file? Why is he interested in our daughter?"

"I don't think that's a good idea, Hermione."

"Ron's right," Harry added. "You're pregnant. Stress is the last thing you need."

"I _need_ to do this," she insisted. "I've been alone with him. I trusted him as my healer. I have to confront him!"

Ron sighed in defeat. "Okay," he accepted. Then he moved towards her, grasped her small hands in his, looked into her eyes, and said, "We've caught him, Hermione. As far as we know, there are no more Attackers. We're safe again. We can go back home."

"Oh, Ron!" she said, and embraced him tightly. Surely she loved The Burrow, but she missed their house, their space, their intimacy ... so much.

"We could take a few days off, after the trial, just you and me," he suggested, grinning at her. "How does that sound?"

She beamed at him. "It sounds wonderful," she told him, and kissed him on the lips.

"Harry, Ron — Oh, sorry!"

Hermione and Ron jumped apart. Hermione turned round and saw Terry Boot in the entrance of the cubicle.

"Don't worry," Harry told him with a hint of exasperation in his voice. "They're incorrigible."

"Never mind that," said Terry, serious. "He's here. Whenever you want..."

"Let's go," said Ron, and the four of them left the cubicle and headed for the interrogation rooms.

Adder was sitting on the chair when they entered, exactly in the same position he had been the day before. He was alone, but she knew that there were Aurors behind the two doors and in the watching room, Terry among them.

Harry conjured a third chair and they sat down, Hermione in the middle. Adder looked at them, and she noticed that the night in Azkaban didn't seem to have affected him the slightest. He looked fresh and well-rested, his eyes were no longer bloodshot, and his skin seemed incredibly smooth and ... _perfect_. There wasn't another word for it. He seemed to be in his thirties after having led a very healthy life. All traces of illness he sported the day before were now gone.

"Enjoyed your night in Azkaban?" Ron started the conversation. "Made a lot of new friends?"

"I've been in worse places," Added answered enigmatically.

"You don't look as if you've had a very hard life," Harry commented.

"Appearances can be deceptive," he replied.

"Maybe," Harry said, and put a little bottle on the table, "but you won't. Not today. We are authorised to use this. Today, you'll talk, whether you want to or not."

Adder looked at the bottle.

"That won't help you."

"You've been checked for any kind of resistance against Veritaserum," Harry replied.

Adder fixed his eyes on them, and Hermione felt Ron squirm uncomfortably in his chair.

"Make me drink it, if you're so sure," he challenged Harry, and, without waiting for an answer, he turned his attention to Ron. "Do you feel all right, Ronald?"

"Don't use my name," Ron snarled at him. Hermione clutched his hand.

"Are you afraid of me?"

"Of course not!" Ron yelled, but Hermione could tell that he was lying. Ron was afraid of Adder. But why? Certainly he was odd and a bit intimidating, but was disarmed, bound and surrounded by Aurors. How could he scare Ron?

"Yes, you are," Added replied, serious.

"I'm not afraid, I'm _disgusted_ with your presence!"

"There's no need to pretend," Adder said. "It is perfectly normal." His mouth curved into a smile and then looked at Hermione. "Hermione. Nice to see you. I enjoyed our meetings, like I knew I would when I wrote that letter. I'm afraid that you'll have to look for a new healer now. Sorry," he said mockingly.

Ron took out his wand and pointed it at Adder. "Don't you dare talk to her this way, you fucking murderer!"

Hermione squeezed Ron's hand soothingly.

"Calm down, Ron." She was upset by Adder's words, but she wasn't going to let him see it. She looked at him defiantly. "I am a member of the Wizengamot. I'm doing my job. I'll be there at your trial, so I'd talk to me with more respect if I were you."

Adder snorted. "You are a woman of great intelligence, Hermione. Don't insult mine. You are a victim, and a victim cannot be a judge. You won't be among the members of the Wizengamot during my trial."

Hermione couldn't help but blush, knowing she had been caught in her lie, but tried to recover quickly.

"So I am a woman of great intelligence?" she asked. "Not just a Mudblood?"

Adder didn't answer.

"Answer me," Hermione demanded. "Wasn't that the reason you ordered them to attack me? Because I am a _Mudblood_ and fought in the last war?"

Adder narrowed his eyes and fixed them on hers, and Hermione felt a shiver run down her spine and her blood get cold inside her veins.

"Do you think I ordered them to attack you because you are Muggleborn?" he asked in a hissing voice. He let out a mirthless laugh. "You don't understand anything. None of you do. We're wasting our time here."

"We don't understand anything?" Hermione asked. "Then explain yourself! Why did you do all this? All these murders?"

"Why indeed?" Adder said, in a mocking tone.

"Don't play with us," Ron warned him.

"My file! Were you the one that took it? How did you do it? Where is healer Gerrick?" Hermione insisted.

"It was me, yes," Adder admitted. "As for dear old Gerrick ... He was, obviously, a false trail. I had to kill him," he explained nonchalantly, as if he could have been talking about buying a broomstick.

"You — you _disgust _me," said Hermione. "Why? Why did you do it?"

Adder didn't answer.

"What happened in that house?" Harry asked, changing the topic. "Who is responsible for those killings? You?"

Adder kept his mouth shut.

"Answer me, Mr Adder," demanded Harry in his most authoritarian and professional voice.

Adder snorted. "Oh, surely by now you know that's not my true name, don't you?"

"What is it, then?"

"Adder is just an identity I made to buy that house and to get in St Mungo's, but I hate it. My true name's Sbalkal."

"What kind of name is that?" asked Ron. "Where are you from?"

"I'm from far away," Adder — or rather, Sbalkal — answered.

"Sbalkal," Harry repeated. "Sbalkal — what?"

"Just Sbalkal."

"You don't have a surname?" Hermione asked.

"No."

"_Everyone_'s got a surname."

"Not me."

"And where _exactly_ are you from?"

"Enough questions about me," Sbalkal said. "You know my name, and that's the only thing I'm going to tell you."

"You'll tell us whatever we want to know," Harry retorted, touching the bottle of Veritaserum.

"You're dead wrong if you believe that."

"Okay then," said Harry, nodding, his expression determined. "I'm tired of his games. Open his mouth."

Ron pointed his wand at him, and Adder's mouth opened. Harry stood up, took the little bottle and let three drops of the potion fall into his mouth. Ron kept his mouth magically open for a few seconds, making sure he drank the potion, and then lowered his wand and let him close it.

"Well," Harry said, sitting down once more, "time to spill the beans. Who killed those people? What happened there?"

"What happened is ... what happened," Sbalkal answered, and smiled smugly at them.

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged incredulous glances.

"Why isn't he telling us everything?" Ron asked.

"I told you Veritaserum wouldn't work with me, didn't I? But you don't _listen_."

"Who are you?" Ron asked him. "How do you do this? You told those four men how to break our wards. How did you know?"

"I know a lot of things," Sbalkal answered.

"What interest do you have in our daughter?" Ron enquired, clearly losing his patience.

"Your question answers itself," Sbalkal said.

"What!?" Ron exclaimed. "What do you mean by that?"

"_Your _daughter," Sbalkal repeated.

"Don't play word games with me!" yelled Ron.

Sbalkal sighed, as if he were tired, and leaned against the back of his chair.

"I'm getting tired of this," he declared. "This has no point."

Hermione stared at him. Despite the negative feelings Sbalkal awakened inside her, she couldn't help but feel confused and intrigued. Was this the same person they had captured the day before in that house? Back then he had refused to talk, and though he didn't look afraid, he did look unhappy. Now he was acting as if this was a game — _his_ game — and he was playing with them.

"So you refuse to answer us?" Harry asked him.

"I am the leader of the group; I admitted having ordered Mathery and the others attack Hermione; I admitted having killed Healer Gerrick; _I killed that Auror_," he enumerated, looking at Ron when he mentioned Julie. Hermione could almost feel his blood boil.

"DON'T MENTION HER! DON'T TALK ABOUT HER!" he snapped, losing the self-control he had maintained until then. "SHE DIDN'T DESERVE TO DIE!"

"It doesn't matter if she deserved it or not," Sbalkal said calmly, completely unfazed by Ron's outburst. "I killed her because I knew it would break you down."

Hermione could sense Ron's body tremble. "_Shut up._"

"I killed her because I knew it would crush you."

Red sparks flew from the tip of Ron's wand. "SHUT UP!"

"You could have caught me, but you let me go to try to save her, even though it was useless."

"SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!"

"You loved her; you love Hermione. And yet your love cannot protect them. It doesn't matter how many times you save them, they get in danger again, because evil cannot be stopped."

"That's not true!" Hermione shouted, grabbing Ron's arm to restrain him.

"It is. You fight and fight, win and win, and yet you find yourselves in danger over and over again; but if we kill just once ... it is forever." He looked at Ron again and leaned forwards, and, as if telling him a secret, he whispered, "I killed her because she was important to you."

Ron, now trembling from head to toe, anger radiating from him, pointed his wand directly at Sbalkal's face. "SHUT UP! SHUT UP!"

"I don't regret having killed her," he continued, relentless. "She was no one. _She was nothing_."

"SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!" Ron screamed. There was a loud BANG and Sbalkal was thrown backwards, falling to the floor, his face swollen and bleeding through his nose.

"Ron, calm down!" yelled Harry, trying to control him.

"GET OFF ME, HARRY! I'M GONNA KILL HIM!"

Hermione embraced him, trying to comfort and restrain him. She was trembling as well. What had they done to earn such hate from that man? _What had Ron done?_

"Don't listen to him, Ron!" she told him. "He is finished and he knows it. He's just confessed everything; he'll spend the rest of his life in Azkaban. He's just trying to hurt us a bit more, to cause more pain."

"Yeah, that's true, mate," confirmed Harry. "Don't listen to him."

The door opened suddenly and two Aurors came in, wands in their hands.

"What's happened?" one of them asked.

"Take this scum back to Azkaban," Harry said, glaring at Sbalkal. "Throw him there until the day of the trial arrives."

The Aurors helped Sbalkal to get up, freeing him from the chair. He wiped the blood away with his right sleeve, his eyes fixed on them.

"You can't always win," he told them.

"It is enough to win each battle as it comes," Harry retorted. Then he addressed the Aurors. "Take him out of our sight, to Azkaban where he belongs. I don't want to endure his presence for another second."

The Aurors dragged him towards the door, and, with one last hateful glance at them, he was gone, leaving the three friends alone.

* * *

_Surely Sbalkal left you even more intrigued than before knowing nothing — not that you really know anything now. I've got to say that he's one my favourite characters. He's despicable, but incredibly interesting and mysterious!_

_Next chapter ... in a few days. _


	15. The Trial

_First of all, let me tell you that I'm very disappointed with you because the number of reviews for last chapter was lower than usual, especially in such an important chapter! I write because I love to, but I publish because I want to know people's thoughts and theories._

_**Kathy**__, who as always has revised this, asked me about something that is said in this chapter regarding Shield/Protective Charms. I could explain my views on the matter here, but I won't bore you. If you have doubts, you can ask me and I'll explain._

_And we're getting to the end of part I! Just this chapter and another one, which will be posted around the beginning of next week._

* * *

**PART I**

**TALES OF NEW MYSTERIES**

_**Chapter 15**_

**The Trial**

* * *

Hermione woke up and opened her eyes, sighing contentedly. She turned her head to the left and observed Ron, who was sprawled on the bed, deeply asleep and snoring. She smiled sleepily. It had been his birthday the day before, and, after a party at The Burrow, they had come home and made love sweetly and passionately before falling asleep in each other's arms.

She took her eyes off him and looked around at the familiar room. It felt wonderful being back, having the house just for the two of them, enjoying the privacy and their alone time. How much she had missed those things!

They had moved back two weeks ago. Though Sbalkal's questioning hadn't revealed a lot of information, everyone seemed to believe that there were no more Attackers left. No new attacks had been reported, in Britain or in any other country, so there was no reason for them — or everyone else — to stay at The Burrow any longer. The Grangers had moved back to their house, Bill and Fleur had gone back to Shell Cottage, Harry and Ginny were at Godric's Hollow, and she and Ron were back at home.

The smile on her face vanished at the thought of Sbalkal. The fact that he had been capable to resist Veritaserum and no one was able to understand how bothered her very much. And then there were all the unsolved mysteries: what had happened in Hogsmeade? Why had he organised all this? Who was he, and where did he come from?

But, above all else, what intrigued her the most were his reasons to hate them — she and Ron — so much. After going over the questioning again and again, it was obvious that Sbalkal hated them or, at least, Ron. Hadn't he implied that the reason he was interested in their child was because she was, precisely, _their child_? Hadn't he implied that he hadn't just attacked her for being Muggleborn, but that there was another reason? And hadn't he openly admitted that he had killed Julie because she was important to Ron?

Of course, it was possible he was lying. As he himself had said, Julie's murder and, therefore, Ron's efforts to try and save her, was what had allowed him to escape that day. But all those other things — why had he done them? If the cause was hate, what was the reason for it? Was it because they had helped to bring Voldemort down? But, if that were the case, why hadn't he gone after Harry? Nothing made sense. The lack of answers frustrated her to no end, and the worst thing was that there was nothing they could do. Sbalkal was still refusing to explain anything. He had ignored all the questions, either asked by other Aurors, or by delegations of the other countries where the members of his army had committed crimes. Though, by the way he had killed Julie, it was obvious that he had murdered before, probably more than once, hers and Gerrick's were the only killings they could accuse him of committing personally.

Finally, after realising that he was of no help, that they were not going to get more information and that delaying was useless, Kingsley had set a date for his trial: the third of March.

Tomorrow.

The sound of Ron tossing on the bed drew Hermione out of her thoughts. She turned her head to look at him and smiled when he opened his eyes.

"Good morning, love."

"Good morning, 'Ermione." He yawned. "What time is it?"

"Half past seven."

"Time to get up," he said, sighing. "But I don't want to. Can't we stay in bed the whole day?"

Hermione smiled at him. "That would be wonderful, but we have a lot to do today," she said.

Ron's expression turned serious and slightly sad. "Yeah."

Hermione looked at him and caressed his face.

"Are you all right, Ron?"

Ron stared at her, his blue eyes boring into hers, and then he grabbed her and pressed her body against his, so she was lying partially over him.

"I am."

Hermione knew that he wasn't, not really, but decided not to insist. Instead, she lowered her head and they shared a long, sweet kiss. After a few seconds, Ron's hands began to wander over her bare back, until he had them on her arse. Hermione deepened the kiss and moved a bit, noticing his morning erection against her hip.

"Mmmh," she moaned, and, gathering all her willpower, ended the kiss. "We can't, Ron."

"I want to."

"Me too, but —"

"I know," he said, and sighed.

Hermione yawned, stretched her body (giving Ron a wonderful view) and then got out of the bed. She went to the bathroom and heard the bed creak as Ron got up.

After a quick shower and breakfast, they both headed for the Ministry. Once they were in the Department, and before they parted ways, Ron clutched her hand and kissed her.

"I have the afternoon off, to get ready for tomorrow," he told her.

"Yeah, I know," Hermione nodded. "Me too."

"I'll fetch you before leaving, then?"

"Yes, I'll wait for you."

They shared a brief kiss and then Ron went towards the cubicles, while Hermione walked towards her office. She had a lot of paperwork to do in preparation for the trial. She was not going to be part of the jury, but still she wanted to be completely sure that Sbalkal got the sentence he deserved. She wouldn't settle for anything less than life imprisonment.

The morning went by very quickly, between preparing all the documentation and having meetings with her boss and other members of the Department. Before she realised it, lunchtime came, but she only became aware of it when her stomach emitted a loud growl.

As she wanted to go home early, she knew she didn't have time to have a proper lunch, so she just Conjured a sandwich from the canteen and ate it while she made sure everything was ready within the folders she had on her desk. Once she had eaten and was completely sure that her papers were in order, she took the folders in her arms and headed for Pamwyck's office. Kingsley himself would be conducting the trial, and that afternoon Pamwyck and he were going to have a meeting to revise the documentation and make sure they had everything ready.

Hermione told Greta, Pamwyck's secretary, that she needed to see him, and, a moment later, she was invited to enter the spacious office.

"Good afternoon, Mr Pamwyck," Hermione said.

"Good afternoon, Ms Granger."

Hermione put the large amount of folders on Pamwyck's desk and then looked at him. "This is everything on my part."

Pamwyck looked at the stack of folders and nodded.

"All right. Good job, Ms Granger. And thank you."

"See you tomorrow," she said, and then left the room.

When she walked back into her office, Ron was already there, sitting on a chair and looking at the fake sunny day that was visible outside the window. He turned his head to look at her when he heard her come in.

"Hey," he greeted her, with forced cheeriness. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, I am," she responded, looking at him carefully. "Do you want to go to The Burrow or do you want to go directly home?" she asked.

"Neither," said Ron, now looking very serious. "I want to go somewhere else before and I ... I wanted you to come with me."

Hermione stared at him for a few moments, both of them silent. It was not necessary for him to tell her where he wanted to go, because she already knew. And, of course, she would go with him. She got closer to him and grabbed his hands.

"Let's go then."

Five minutes later, they Apparated among a group of trees. After making sure no one had seen them, they began to walk towards the silent and lonely graveyard. There wasn't another person within sight, and a thick fog covered everything. It was as if only the graveyard, with its silent tombs, existed in this dream-like, eerie world, and Hermione couldn't help but shudder a little.

They walked in silence between the graves, the sound of their steps muffled by the moist grass until, finally, they stopped in front of a new, beautiful grave made of marble.

"Hey, Julie," Ron whispered, crouching down on the ground. "It's me, Ron. And Hermione." He fell silent, and Hermione could almost feel the emotion radiating from him. She felt a sudden need to cry, for herself, for Ron, and for the young and lovely girl buried there, but, with some effort, she was barely able to hold back the tears. Gulping, she put a hand on Ron's right shoulder, and he covered it with his a moment later.

"I'd ask you how you're doing," Ron continued, "but I suppose it is a stupid question, given the circumstances." He sniffed loudly, and Hermione clutched his hand in hers, giving him a reassuring squeeze. "I miss you, Julie. The office is not the same without you and your stupid jokes. And I — I miss you coming over for dinner. We both miss you, Hermione and I." Hermione crouched down next to him, her heart breaking for him, and saw a lonely tear run down his face and fall to the grass. "This is so u-unfair," he added. "You should be alive. I'm sorry, Julie," he confessed, letting out a sob. "Maybe..." he closed his eyes for a moment, as if trying to pull himself together, and then opened them again. "Maybe if I had done something else, you — you'd be alive."

"Ron..." Hermione muttered softly, deeply touched by Ron's sweetness. "You did everything in your hands to save her, and I'm sure that, wherever she is, Julie knows."

"But we caught him, Julie. I promised you we'd get him and make him pay, and we did. Well, it was all Hermione; she had the idea that helped us to find him. You know her, always brilliant," he said, his voice full of such pride that Hermione blushed a bit.

"But it was Ron who beat him," she clarified almost immediately.

"I don't know if you are aware of it, but tomorrow is the trial," Ron continued. "And we swear to you, Julie, that he'll spend the rest of his life in Azkaban."

Ron stood up and looked away. Hermione saw him wipe away his tears, and felt her own eyes moisten, despite her efforts to prevent it.

"We have to go," Ron said after a few seconds. "But we'll come back to see you, okay? It was wonderful to have met you, Julie, and it doesn't matter how many years go by; I'll never forget you." He sniffed, and then added, in a strangely bright tone, "You know, now I come to think of it, maybe you've met my git of a brother up there. Smack his head for me, okay?" His expression turned serious again before saying, "Tell him we all miss him."

Hermione let out a laugh that was actually half a sob, and then, with her eyes finally full of unshed tears, she grabbed Ron's hand.

"Goodbye, Julie," he said.

"Goodbye," repeated Hermione, and, making a circular move with her wand, Conjured a bunch of beautiful flowers that landed softly next to the grave. They stared silently at the quiet tomb for a while and then, still hand in hand, they Disapparated.

— — o — —

"Tomorrow is the big day," Hermione commented, as they walked into their bedroom, hours later.

"Yeah."

"It'll be over at last," she continued, taking off her robes and hanging them in the wardrobe. As Ron didn't answer, she turned around, and found him gazing at her, lust evident in his eyes. "Ron?"

"You're so beautiful," Ron commented.

"No, I'm not," Hermione replied, looking down at her body, now clad only in her underwear. "I'm five months pregnant and becoming very fat."

"You're the woman I love and are carrying my child inside you," Ron argued, "there is not a more beautiful woman in the entire world. Especially when, like now, you're wearing black underwear."

"Ron..." she muttered, her voice husky and practically dripping with desire. And — she almost blushed at the thought — it wasn't the only thing that was almost dripping...

With just a few strides, Ron was upon her. He grabbed her by her shoulders and kissed her hard on the mouth. She moaned into his mouth, and her hands went around his neck, bringing him closer to her. As their kiss became more and more heated, she felt his strong, warm hands slide down her front, squeeze her breasts, and continue down, over her belly and towards her arse. He squeezed both her buttocks, hard, eliciting new moans from her.

"Ron..."

"I want to taste you, Hermione. I want to devour you whole," he said huskily, ending their kiss, and began to kiss down her neck and over her cleavage. Needing to feel his mouth on her skin, she took her hands from his neck, reached behind her and unsnapped her bra, letting it fall to the floor and revealing her breasts to his hungry gaze and mouth. He latched onto her right nipple almost immediately.

"Fuck, Hermione, you're so soft, so tasty, so —" She didn't know what else she was, because Ron started sucking on her again, more desperately than before. She began to caress his red hair, encouraging him to suck on her harder. Ron switched breasts, and, at the same time, she felt one of his hands leave her bum and creep under the front of her knickers.

"God, you're so wet," he moaned. "I need to lick you. Now. On the bed," he ordered, releasing her breast and staring at her with a feral gaze.

She bit her bottom lip to stifle a moan, and did as told, but not before taking off her knickers slowly and erotically. Then she lay down on the bed and spread her legs for him, her eyes locked on his.

He looked ready to pounce on her, and a moment later, he was between her thighs, giving them little kisses and bites, alternating from one leg to the other, until Hermione felt she couldn't resist it anymore.

"Ron, please," she said, putting her hands on his head and trying to push his mouth towards her cunt. "Please."

"Merlin, yes," he said, before giving her a long lick from bottom to top and latching onto her clit.

"Oh, RON!"

"I love your taste," he said between frantic licks and sucks. "I —"

He put her legs over his shoulders, and sneaked his arms around them, using his hands to caress her inner thighs while he kept pleasuring her.

Hermione began to caress his hair, encouraging him, making him know how much she was liking what he was doing to her. After a while, he moved his mouth a bit lower, and thrust his tongue inside her, as deep as he could. She let out a loud moan, which turned even louder when she felt his thumb on her clit, stroking her slowly but in a way she loved. It didn't take her long until she came, shouting his name and clenching her thighs around his head. He didn't protest, though, but kept licking her until she was completely relaxed on the bed.

"You look incredible when you cum," he told her.

She smiled, bliss etched upon her face. "And you look incredible when you've just made me cum," she added.

He smiled at her, and began to caress and kiss her round belly lovingly. Then he moved towards her breasts and finally, to her face. They kissed for a while, she tasting herself on his mouth.

"That was fantastic, Ron."

"We're not done yet."

"I hope not," she said, looking down at his tented pants. She looked into his eyes once more, and moved her right hand to cup his cock. She could see the change in his eyes.

"I want you," she told him. "Always."

"I'm yours," he responded. "Always."

She released his cock, making him grunt in protest, and pushed him down on the bed. Then she sat up, knelt next to him, and, sensually, took off his pants, freeing his hard, throbbing cock.

"Hermione..." he said, his eyes fixed on hers, enthralled by her. He could make her feel like the prettiest girl on Earth when he looked at her that way.

"What, Ron?"

"I — I need —"

She felt even more in love with him. He usually was blunt, even vulgar, in bed. Seeing him almost sheepish, just like when they had started having sex, was almost too much.

"What do you need? Tell me."

"Your mouth. Suck me, Hermione."

"Where?" she asked, taking his right hand in hers and sucking on his thumb teasingly. "Here?"

"My cock, Hermione. Please, suck my cock."

"With pleasure," she told him, and engulfed him almost completely.

"Oh, fuck, Hermione! Merlin, your mouth feels ... so ... good!"

She moaned around him, bobbing her head, and he made new noises of appreciation.

She began to move her head faster and faster, using her right hand to cup his balls, which made him hiss in pleasure. It wasn't long before she felt him twitch in her mouth and get even harder, and she stopped. She crawled over him, until her cunt was above his cock, but, instead of putting it inside her, she began to move, making it slide against her clit, arousing her once more. She knew he was about to cum, and she wanted to cum with him.

"Ron..." she moaned.

"Hermione, you are killing me," he declared, and began to caress her sides before putting his hands over her breasts, kneading them roughly.

She kept rocking against him, feeling herself get wetter and wetter. Finally, when she couldn't stand it anymore, she raised her hips and slid down his cock, making both of them groan in pleasure.

"FUCK!" shouted Ron.

He put one hand on her breasts and the other on her belly, caressing it tenderly. And that touch, so careful and full of love, sent her over the edge once more in a completely unexpected way.

Ron, noticing that, began to thrust upwards with all his might, and soon he was coming, too, his eyes closed and his mouth wide open in a moan of pleasure and complete bliss.

"Fuck, Hermione! That was — was —" He seemed to search for the appropriate word.

"Special," she said.

"Yeah, special," he agreed.

She lay next to him, feeling completely satisfied, and he embraced her. For a few moments, they stayed in silence, the only sound coming from their ragged breathing.

"Tomorrow everything will be over," Ron said, repeating her words from earlier. "And yet, nothing will be the same."

"I know," Hermione said, knowing that both of them were thinking about how many loved people had died, people that never would come back.

He looked at her. "I'm so glad you're here, with me. That, after everything, we still have each other and our daughter."

"I'm glad, too. And looking forward to a few days together."

He smiled at her. "Me too." He kissed her. "Goodnight, Hermione."

She put her head over Ron's shoulder and her left arm over his naked torso. "Goodnight, Ron," she responded, and closed her eyes.

— — o — —

Hermione, Ginny and Mr Weasley walked along the corridor where the courtrooms and the holding cells were placed towards the door that led to the courtroom that would host Sbalkal's trial. Several people were going in, attentively watched by two Aurors — Elizabeth Seafish and Angus Crowdford — who were on guard outside.

When they walked in, Hermione noticed that the room was already almost full of people. All the members of the Wizengamot that would act as a jury were already in their seats, and some members of the press were sitting on the benches, just like relatives of the victims and other Ministry employees. Neither Kingsley nor Pamwyck were in their seats, but Percy was, and Blevelty, who looked very anxious.

Five minutes later, Ron and Harry entered the room. They looked around, spotted Blevelty, and made their way towards him. They exchanged a few words and Blevelty nodded. After that, Ron gazed around and saw them. He waved in greeting, but, instead of coming, he looked around once more and headed for the benches where Julie's parents were seated; both parents looked nervous and gloomy, especially her father, who, being a Muggle, had never been in the Ministry.

Ron talked to them for a while and shook their hands. Then he joined Harry and, together, they crossed the room and climbed the benches to sit beside Hermione.

"Hi," they both said at the same time.

"Hi," responded Hermione, clutching Ron's hand in hers. "Mathery and the others are in the holding cells, then?" she asked.

Harry nodded.

"I don't understand why Blevelty wanted them here. As extra witnesses? We have all the evidence we need."

"Where are Terry and the others?" Hermione wanted to know.

"Terry is among those who'll bring Sbalkal," explained Harry. "The others are at the Atrium and outside. Blevelty wanted to have the entire Ministry watched."

"Do you fear an attack?" Mr Weasley asked, serious.

"No," Ron answered, "but this is the most important trial since the war." He shrugged. "I don't feel it is necessary, either, but well, better safe than sorry."

No one said anything else, because in that moment Kingsley and Pamwyck walked into the courtroom. Kingsley shared a few words with Percy and then they occupied their seats.

Silence fell over the room.

"Bring him in," the Minister ordered, his voice powerful and stern.

The doors opened once more, and Sbalkal, still dressed in his black robes, stepped in, flanked by Terry Boot and Malcolm Scrivenshaft.

Hermione watched him. He was walking with his head hanging, as if he were very tired or even in pain. His steps were uneven, as if he were drunk or dizzy, and even from afar, it was obvious he was panting, as if the simple act of walking was too much for him. Terry and Malcolm guided him towards the chair placed at the centre of the room and made him sit down. The moment his body touched the chair, the chains became alive and wrapped themselves around Sbalkal's arms, binding him tightly to the arms of the chair.

Terry and Malcolm retreated and stopped near the door, watching Sbalkal attentively. He stayed completely immobile for a while, with his head hung low; and then, slowly, lifted it and looked around blankly, taking in the people observing him from the benches.

Even under the dim light of the torches, Hermione was surprised at how little effect Azkaban had had on him. His skin looked as good as always, simply perfect. His hair was clean and even shiny. And, shockingly, now he didn't look tired, but somewhat defiant. It was as if he had suddenly and miraculously recovered from an illness.

"Good morning, wizards and witches of the Wizengamot; members of the Ministry; citizens of Wizarding and Muggle Britain," Kingsley began in his deep voice. "We are here today to judge this man —" he nodded towards Sbalkal, "— for crimes unlike any we have heard of in a long time: murders, abductions, leadership of a criminal organisation and creation of havoc in our country and others," he explained, looking down upon Sbalkal with obvious dislike.

"Aldus Adder," he continued, this time addressing Sbalkal directly, "your case is unique, I have to admit. Under this name, you are registered as a healer at St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries and owner of a house situated in the village of Hogsmeade. But you claim this name is fake, just an invention; you've declared your true name is Sbalkal. By this name, we have no reference of you. No country we've asked has been able to tell us who you are."

Kingsley made a short pause, giving the people in the room time to process what he had said. Sbalkal, sitting on the chair, seemed to have endured some sort of transfiguration, and now he was sitting straight on the chair, looking like a king on his throne, and was staring at the floor uninterestedly, as if what Kingsley was saying were of no importance.

"However, the mystery of your identity is not an obstacle or an impediment for justice. Who you are means much less to this court and to our community, than what you've done.

"It is our desire, though, to clarify what happened during the two months your reign of terror lasted. The Ministry, with myself on top, demand you to tell us your complete name, your age, and where you come from."

Sbalkal lifted his head slowly, and stared at Kingsley defiantly.

"Demand?" he said softly. "You cannot demand anything. I don't recognise your authority, or that of your Ministry," he stated, his voice clear and potent. A low murmur of surprise and indignation rose from the benches. The attendants seemed scandalised at such an outburst. Kingsley, however, kept his composure.

"Whether you recognise my authority or not is irrelevant," Kingsley answered.

"I, on the other hand, think that it is a matter of great importance," Sbalkal replied.

"You shall talk only when asked!" Pamwyck shouted, scowling at Sbalkal. "Another disrespectful remark like that one and you'll be silenced for good."

Sbalkal looked at him, and then smiled, and that smile made Hermione shudder and the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Beside her, Ron squirmed uncomfortably, as if something were bothering him.

"You weren't able to make me talk with Veritaserum. What makes you believe you can silence me with a spell?"

"Enough!" Kingsley roared. "We aren't here to discuss any of this. We are here to judge you for your horrible crimes!"

On the chair, Sbalkal closed his eyes as in concentration, and then leaned forwards, bending his torso, and lowered his head so his face was in the shadows. Hermione and Harry exchanged a confused look.

"What's he doing?" asked Ginny in a shushed voice.

"You confessed to being the leader of the group widely known as 'The Attackers.'"

Sbalkal neither moved nor answered, as if he hadn't heard Kingsley at all.

"You confessed to having killed an Auror, Julie Simmells, in front of another Auror, Ronald Weasley."

Silence.

"You admitted having killed a healer, Rowan Gerrick, whose body hasn't been found yet, and having stolen a file from St Mungo's."

More silence.

"You —"

"Yeah, yeah, blah blah blah," Sbalkal said suddenly, interrupting Kingsley, and he lifted his head to look at the Minister, though without straightening his body. "I ordered them to do all those things. I recruited them. They swore loyalty to me. I did all those things, yes, and you know what? I don't regret anything. I don't care for those who were killed; they meant nothing to me. Your rules, your laws, and your morals mean _nothing_."

A deathly silence received such a confession. Every person in the dungeon was staring at Sbalkal, shocked and profoundly repulsed by him and his statement. From the benches where the familiars of the victims were seated, Hermione could perceive an anger and hate so immense that she marvelled no one had jumped from their seat and tried to strangle Sbalkal or curse him.

"Since the days of Lord Voldemort," Kingsley continued, barely concealing his shock and anger at the accused man below him, "this court hadn't heard of such despicable acts. Are you aware, Mr Sbalkal, of the fact that blood-related hate is now against the law? All witches and wizards are equal and worth the same."

Sbalkal gazed at Kingsley for a few seconds, and Hermione was shocked to see that he looked amused.

"_Your _law," he muttered with a sneer. "Haven't I stated what I think of it? And besides, who told you I did all this because I hate Muggleborns?" he asked.

"Those four men you sent to try and kill Hermione Granger were obviously —"

"You're so blind," Sbalkal interrupted again, "so stupid. Why should I hate Muggleborns when my own parents were Muggles?"

Kingsley fell silent at once, clearly at a loss for words. Everyone in the room seemed shocked by this revelation and a few whispers of astonishment could be heard here and there. But was it true, or was it a lie?

"Muggleborn?" Harry repeated, astounded. "It can't be."

"Are you — are you telling us that, after what your ... servants did, _under your orders_, you are Muggleborn? Who are your parents?" Pamwyck demanded. "Answer us!"

"My parents are dead," Sbalkal said. "Their flesh became, long ago, food for the worms, their bones are just dust, and their names have been forgotten.

"And regarding my men, I just told them what they needed to hear. They were just tools for a purpose, a means to an end."

Hermione felt so repulsed by him that she had to fight the desire to take her eyes off him. Thinking that this man, _this monster_, a person so vile, capable of talking about his dead parents in such a way, had touched her and had examined her, was too much, and she put her hands over her growing belly in a protective gesture.

"And which end is that?" Kingsley asked. "If you don't hate Muggleborns, what is the reason for all these murders?"

"I'm tired of this interrogation. I don't have to answer any of your questions. I want to leave."

"Leave?" Kingsley asked, completely puzzled. "This isn't a date or a meeting! Don't forget the reason we are here!" he snapped.

Sbalkal leaned against the back of the chair and closed his eyes as in concentration, letting his body relax.

"I don't," he replied in a very calm voice. "I think you're the ones that don't understand." He made a small pause and then spoke again, his head slightly tilted to his right. "The only reason I'm here is that this is the place where I want to be."

"WHAT?" Pamwyck yelled.

"What's he saying?" Hermione heard Ginny ask in a whisper. On her left side, Ron began to shake, and Hermione felt a sudden fear creep up her spine.

On the chair, Sbalkal smiled.

The chains holding him fell to the floor, making a clinking noise.

He was free.

"Time to go."

Everyone in the room stared at him, looking completely astounded and apparently unable to move because of the shock. It was impossible that he was unbound; the chains had very powerful charms and were only under the command of the judge presiding the tribunal, so how had he got free?

Sbalkal stood up, still smiling dangerously. From the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Terry Boot and Malcolm Scrivenshaft approach him, their faces determined and their wands aloft, ready to hex Sbalkal if necessary.

"Sit down!" Terry ordered him.

But Sbalkal didn't obey. Instead, he turned around and, after looking at him for a couple of seconds, answered, "No."

"SIT DOWN!" Terry yelled, pointing his wand at him menacingly.

Everything happened incredibly quickly. One moment Sbalkal was looking at Terry and the next he was just in front of him. Hermione had never seen anyone move so quickly. Before Terry could do anything but open his eyes wide in astonishment, Sbalkal threw his right fist against his face and punched him so fast that Hermione couldn't even see his arm move.

Terry couldn't even scream.

Blood flew everywhere from his smashed face, some drops hitting even the people sitting on the first row of benches. It was as if Terry had been hit by a big ball of steel instead of a human fist. Some people screamed. Shocked, Scrivenshaft moved his wand to stop him, but, even before Terry's body fell to the floor, Sbalkal turned to face the other Auror, and, again with incredible speed, made a gesture as if throwing something at him with his hand.

As Terry's body fell onto the floor with a dull thud, a yard away from where he had been standing prior to having being hit, Scrivenshaft's body burst into flames.

Hermione stayed still, too horrified and shocked to move, barely realising her mouth hung open as she saw a pool of blood forming under Terry's head and watched Malcolm Scrivenshaft being consumed by fire.

But then, as if the spell holding the dungeon had been suddenly broken, more people began to scream. Someone pointed his wand at Scrivenshaft and cast a stream of water over him. Ron and Harry drew their wands quickly and threw two powerful Stunning Spells at that man that half a minute ago was going to be sentenced to spend his life in Azkaban and now had killed one, maybe two people, and was free.

Sbalkal turned towards them, facing the attack with his chin raised in a defiant gesture. The two spells dissolved in the air and Sbalkal smiled with superiority.

"What the fuck —?" said Harry.

"STOP HIM!" Kingsley shouted.

The doors of the courtroom opened, and Elizabeth Seafish and Angus Crowdford came in, alert and with their wands ready, but froze on the spot after seeing the scene before them.

"What the he—?" Crowdford began to say.

He couldn't finish his sentence. Sbalkal looked at them, made a quick, shoving gesture with his left hand in their direction and they were blasted backwards and out of sight. Then, again very quickly, he wheeled around to face Kingsley and the Wizengamot and smiled defiantly at them.

Kingsley pointed his own wand at him, and was immediately imitated by dozens of other people on the benches.

Near the chair, Sbalkal contemplated the wands pointed at him without — apparently — the slightest trace of concern. As the spells began to fly towards him from every direction, he stretched his arms and tilted his head backwards. Something, like a semi-spherical shield shimmered feebly around him; the hexes, curses and jinxes hit the almost invisible barrier and then disappeared without touching the man standing at its centre.

"What the hell is that?" asked Ron, utterly surprised. "How can a shield stop dozens of spells at a time?"

"I don't know!" answered Hermione while she threw another Stunning Spell at him.

Inside the semi-sphere, untouched by the spells, Sbalkal, still facing Kingsley and the Wizengamot, looked up.

There was a sudden explosion, and the ceiling above them began to crumble and fall to the floor, causing the wizards and witches to move away and to point their wands up to protect and save themselves from the falling rubble. Another two gestures with his hands, and Hermione felt a sudden blow in her chest, and she, along with Harry, Ginny, Ron, Mr Weasley and everyone else in the room fell backwards forcefully.

Hermione closed her eyes in a moment, wincing in pain, because she had hit her back against the sharp edge of a bench, and then opened them again, wanting to know where Sbalkal, who seemed to possess incredible powers, was.

The courtroom was in complete chaos. All around the place, panicked people were screaming and trying to get up and move as far from Sbalkal as possible. Several people had been hit by the falling stones. No one was attacking Sbalkal now, but most were just trying to escape and at least a few were trying to help other wizards and witches who were injured. Several torches had fallen to the floor, and, as though animated by some mysterious force, as though they had become alive, the flames began to grow and extend over the benches.

"Call the other Aurors!" yelled Kingsley, trying to regain control of the situation, while using his wand to stop a big stone from crushing him. "SEAL THE MINISTRY!" He was addressing Blevelty, but the Head of the Auror Office seemed not to have heard him. He was on the same spot, just staring at Sbalkal, horrified and too frightened even to move.

"Hermione, are you okay?" a very concerned Ron asked her, helping her to her feet again. She nodded, and he turned around to look at Harry. "What can we do?" He asked. "How can —?"

He stopped talking, because Sbalkal was rising up in the air, floating, the semi-spherical shield now becoming a sphere with him at the centre as he got farther and farther from the floor. There was a new explosion, and part of the walls began to crumble too. The entire dungeon was falling to pieces. There were more screams. Some people had managed to reach the door and escape, and the others in the crumbling room were too scared to do anything.

Hermione watched him rise up, horrified and awestruck at the same time. She had never seen anyone do things like this ever before.

Or had she?

Because the moment she thought about it, the image of another man, wearing a dark cloak and a hood appeared in her mind, the image of a man moving the way Sbalkal had moved, using magic without a wand like Sbalkal had done, and immune to attacks like Sbalkal seemed to be.

What was happening? What did this mean? Who where these people and what did they want?

A new portion of the wall behind them began to crumble, breaking Hermione's train of thought, and she saw Mr Weasley move and push them towards the exit.

"We have to get out of here!" he yelled, moving his wand to cast a Shield charm over them.

"But Sbalkal —" protested Ron.

"Release Mathery and the others," Sbalkal ordered in that moment, his voice perfectly audible among the screams and the sounds of fire and falling stone.

Hermione didn't understand whom he was talking to, until he spun swiftly in the air and looked down at Blevelty. He looked up at him, sheer terror etched upon his face. He seemed even unable to blink, as if he was contemplating something coming out from his worst nightmare.

"Do it, Ferdinand!" Sbalkal shouted at him.

"No!" Harry shouted. He had climbed down to the bench below the one on which they had been sitting, but now was not moving, Ginny's hand on his and looking at Blevelty. "No, it can't be!"

Blevelty remained immobile, his eyes still fixed on Sbalkal, and trembling from head to toe.

"This — this —" Blevelty stammered.

"Remember what's at stake! I healed her, but it was also me who caused her illness in the first place, and I can do it again, so you'd better do as I tell you!"

_Caused her illness? Healed her? _No one could cause or cure Schebert's Magical Deficiency Syndrome; it was impossible...

Blevelty hesitated for a moment, but then faced the door and hurried towards it.

"No, NO!" Kingsley yelled. He pointed his wand at him, but at that very moment Sbalkal let out a yell, and everyone fell to the floor once more, almost crushed by an invisible and irresistible force. There was a loud cracking noise, more stone began to fall and the fire started to spread more quickly. The entire dungeon was crumbling now.

"We have to get out of here!" Mr Weasley yelled once more.

"We can't let him go!" Harry roared.

"WE CAN'T STOP HIM, HARRY!" Mr Weasley replied, using his wand to send a torch that was rebounding on the benches and leaving a trail of expanding fire away from them. "Ginny and Hermione are pregnant!"

Harry hesitated for a fraction of a second and then grabbed Ginny's hand, turned towards the exit and stopped dead.

"Going somewhere?"

Hermione and Ron turned their heads. Sbalkal was now floating in front of them. The shield that protected him had vanished, but he didn't seem concerned about the possibility of being attacked. He laid his grey eyes on her, and Hermione felt a surge of fear she hadn't experienced ever before, not even the two times she had seen Lord Voldemort, not even when she had thought Harry was dead and all hope was lost, not even —

"Did you really believe I didn't know about that stupid charm you put over Hogsmeade? Did you really believe _you_ had captured _me_?" He laughed loudly, sending chills down Hermione's spine.

"What — what do you want?" Ron asked him, his entire body trembling. "What the hell are you?"

Sbalkal stared at him. "I could kill you all in a second," he said. "Right now, by just snapping my —" He fell silent suddenly, as though something else had drawn his attention, and looked around, as if trying to see, or perceive, something they couldn't. However, a moment later he focused on them again. "I am on a tight schedule, though. But I'll see you soon; I can promise you that. Besides," he added, looking directly at Hermione, "I still have a bit of an interest in your lovely daughter."

"NO!" Hermione yelled, hugging her belly and stepping backwards. Her right leg bumped against the bench and she fell onto her backside over it. At the same time, Ron and Harry got closer to her and shielded her from him. Sbalkal laughed again.

"See you soon."

He landed on the floor, and paying no attention to the people running away from him, he began to walk towards the door. He had just given a few steps when he stopped suddenly and turned around, his eyes fixed on Ron.

"I think I can deal with you, though," he said. He raised a hand and pointed a finger at Ron. Hermione moved her head to look at her husband and saw his confused look turn into one of extreme pain. He put his hands on his stomach and bent over before dropping onto the bench next to her.

"Oh, God!" Ginny yelled.

"RON!" Hermione shrieked.

A great amount of blood was spilling between Ron's fingers, and his robes were quickly getting soaked with it. He looked at her once, his eyes wide open and filled with panic, and then dropped his head and passed out, while all around them the room crumbled and the fire spread, devouring everything.


	16. A Tale of Gain and Loss

_And this is the end of part 1 ... I know you're dying to know about Ron, so I won't bore you._

_After this, as I had already warned you, there will be about two weeks before part 2. Yes, you'll want to kill me, but ... I find it right, as part 2 will bring new POVs and a little change in the style of chapters._

_I assume lots of you have theories ... I doubt any of them survive this chapter, which, in itself, is quite different than the previous ones._

_As always, thank you to __**Kathy**__ for her priceless help, and I'll see you in __**Part II: Tales of Old Secrets**__, in its first chapter, __**A Tale of Life and Death.**_

_And if you liked this first part of the story, please let me know._

* * *

**PART I**

**TALES OF NEW MYSTERIES**

_**Chapter 16**_

**A Tale of Gain and Loss**

* * *

He left the crumbling dungeon, not paying any attention to the frightened wizards and witches that were running away from him, and strode quickly along the dimly lit corridor towards the stairs that led to Level Nine.

He was so close now. After so many years and after so much waiting, the moment had come. He could feel the anticipation building inside him. Everything was going according to the plan, and soon...soon...

A few yards ahead of him, Blevelty had opened one of the doors, and Mathery, Gealt, Scholdt and Pucey came out, surprised and looking pale; Azkaban had obviously had an effect upon them.

"Master...?" Mathery said, shocked to see him there and free. They had never seen his face, but his clothes and his presence were unmistakable. "How —?"

"I have something to do," he told them, "and I need you to delay the rest of the Aurors and Ministry forces that will soon be here."

"But we don't ha—" Gealt began to say.

Before he could finish his sentence, Sbalkal had thought about the four wands of the four Aurors he had beat, and they flew quickly towards them.

"Now you have," he said simply.

They nodded in awe. They knew better than to ask, though, and headed for the stairs. Blevelty, pale and ashamed, flinched against the stone wall, unable to look into his eyes and consumed by guilt.

_What have I done ... what have I done ..._

Sbalkal smiled.

"You did what you had to," he said, startling him. "It was your only daughter's life at stake. Only those that don't have a child could blame you."

Blevelty cowered even more and began to cry.

"I don't need you anymore," Sbalkal told him. "You are now free to do as you please."

Sbalkal felt that they were getting closer. Word of what had happened was spreading through the Ministry. He had already consumed a lot of power in the dungeon, and he needed all the rest. He needed to be quick. So, as fast as he had moved when he had hit that stupid Terry Boot, who had believed that he could stop him, Sbalkal covered the rest of the corridor and climbed up the stairs. Once on Level Nine, he looked at his men, who were watching several utterly scared people wait for the lifts.

"Destroy the lifts," Sbalkal ordered them.

"Yes, master," Mathery said submissively.

The people near them began to scream, but Sbalkal paid them no attention. He turned to look at the black door at the end of the corridor, and began to walk towards it.

And then he felt it again, that protection no one knew was there, that defence whose only purpose was to protect this place from him. It was like a drilling noise in his mind, like a weight crushing his soul...

But it was also weaker than before, weaker than when he had been brought from Azkaban. And he was stronger than the last time he had attempted to enter this place. Now, nothing could stop him.

He walked determinedly towards the door, which burst open the moment he approached it. The pressure on him intensified, and he used his power to fight back, his immense willpower confronting the one determined to stop him.

Oh, how he despised him! Him, who once had been so great and then had succumbed to death! And yet he couldn't help but still admire him, the way he had admired him in life, because despite his faults and how limited his views were, he had been, hitherto, able to thwart him, even though he was dead...

His will and his determination stronger than ever, he stepped into the circular room, and one of the other eleven doors opened instantly. He marched directly through it, and then stopped.

The room was poorly lit, and there were just a few desks there. A man and woman were sitting at two of them, writing on pieces of parchment under the light of a few candles, oblivious to what was happening. The Department of Mysteries was protected against mundane interruptions such as noise. At the sound of the door opening and his steps, they raised their heads and looked at him.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" the man asked. "This is a restricted area, and —"

"Wait a moment," said the woman, interrupting her workmate, fear becoming visible on her face. "Isn't he — isn't he that man, the one that was going to be judged t-today?"

"Oh, Merlin!" the man shouted, jumping off his chair completely frightened.

Sbalkal looked past them, to the enormous tank placed in the middle of the room, where a few brains were floating in a green liquid, and smiled.

— — o — —

"Ron, Ron, please, come back to me!" Hermione begged, crying, as she applied healing spell after healing spell to Ron's wound. She had managed to diminish the amount of blood he was losing, but he wasn't healing. Who knew what kind of magic Sbalkal had used against him?

Around them, pieces of stone kept falling from the ceiling. There wasn't anything between them and the Atrium, so who knew how much stone could still fall? The room seemed now to have gone through a bombing. Some wizards, Kingsley among them, had managed to extinguish most of the fires and stabilize parts of the ceiling, through not all of it. Meanwhile, a few others were tending to the injured.

"We have to take him to St Mungo's," said Mr Weasley, his voice shaking with worry.

"You do that," Harry told them. "Ginny, go with them. I'm going to try and stop that monster."

"Harry, no!" Ginny yelled, panicking, and grabbed his right arm. "You saw what he did! What do you think you can do against him?"

"We can't let him walk out of here free!" Harry replied. "Who knows what he's planning to do?"

"STOP ROWING!" Hermione yelled, upset and angry, and they fell silent at once. "Ron is almost dying!" She sobbed. She turned to him once more and resumed muttering healing charms over his wound.

Mr Weasley Conjured a stretcher, and he and Hermione used magic to put him on it. Then Mr Weasley made it float and they descended the benches, careful to avoid the pieces of stone on them.

Kingsley and Pamwyck, who had a nasty gash on his forehead, approached them, both looked lost and defeated.

"What a disaster...what a disaster..." Pamwyck was saying.

"How's Ron?" Kingsley asked, looking at his body with a concerned expression. He seemed to have aged ten years since the beginning of the trial.

"I — I don't know," Hermione said, very anxious. "We're going to take him to St Mungo's."

Kingsley nodded.

"I'm staying," Harry stated. "Sbalkal can't have left the building yet; there were Aurors and members of the Law Enforcement Squad at the Atrium and outside. If we hurry up —"

"Yes," nodded Kingsley, "yes, though — I don't know if we can stop him. Our priority now is the injured."

"I can stay and help, Kingsley," offered Ginny. "Terry Boot and the other Aurors —?"

"The four of them are dead," explained Kingsley dejectedly.

"Oh, Merlin ...!"

Hermione didn't know what to say. She had known all those people, but Terry, Terry had gone with them to Hogwarts, had been part of Dumbledore's Army, had been part of the secret group ... and now was dead.

"It was just a punch," Pamwyck muttered. "Just a punch. How could he ...?" He shook his head. "I don't understand anything."

"We have to go," Mr Weasley said. "I can come afterwards, Kingsley, but now —"

"Yes, yes, tend to your son," Kingsley nodded. "We can manage, I think. We've already called for help and warned everyone..."

They headed for the doors, walking quickly, but, before they could go through them, Blevelty came in, disoriented, looking twenty years older and apparently in a state of shock. He stopped upon seeing them, and blinked a few times.

"I — I want to help too, if I can," he stammered. "I —"

"You bastard!" Harry shouted, furious, advancing towards him. "You've already helped enough! _YOU HELPED HIM!_"

"You're arrested, Ferdinand," declared Kingsley, glaring at his former friend with evident distaste. "I — I can't believe you've helped him. What have you done?"

"I released his men," Blevelty confessed, not looking at any of them in the eye. "They're up on Level Nine now."

"Let's stop them!" Harry yelled. "We'll deal with this traitor later."

"HE OFFERED TO SAVE MY DAUGHTER!" Blevelty yelled, almost crying. "What could I do? She was my only daughter, my angel...She was dying...I couldn't do anything for her but sit at her side while she languished ... And then he came, and she recovered and talked to me. What would have you done if you were in my situation?" he asked, letting out a sob.

Hermione tore her eyes off him. She didn't want to think about that scenario, because it was too terrible even to imagine, so instead she focused on Ron. He was still losing blood. She pointed her wand at him and wrapped his torso in bandages.

"Let him escape," Blevelty advised them. "You cannot stop him. If you try, he will kill you all."

"I cannot allow him to escape," Harry stated. "I cannot let that monster get away with this."

From the other side of the corridor and coming down the stairs, they could hear explosions and the sound of a battle taking place.

Hermione looked at Ron. He was getting paler.

"We have to go," she said. "But how are we going to go up, if they're fighting up there?"

"Use the lifts that connect the holding cells with the interrogation rooms," Harry told her. "I authorise you."

"Let's go," Kingsley said. He looked at Blevelty. "Help the injured if you want to repair some of the damage you've done, but don't forget that you're still arrested."

Blevelty nodded.

"Come on!" Harry yelled. Ginny hugged him tightly.

"Please, Harry, be careful. _Please_."

"I'll be," he said, hugging her back. He looked at Hermione over Ginny's shoulder. "Take care of Ron."

"Take care of yourself."

He nodded, and then Pamwyck, Kingsley and he ran towards the stairs and into the battle.

"I'll be at St Mungo's as soon as I can," Ginny told Hermione, squeezing her hand. Hermione nodded. Once Ginny let go of her hand, she and Mr Weasley, with Ron's stretcher floating after them, headed quickly towards the doors that led to the lifts only the Aurors were authorised to use. She tried not to look at the bodies of Elizabeth Seafish and Angus Crowdford, who were lying haphazardly next to the wall, their smashed heads laying in a pool of blood. Once they got on the lift and Mr Weasley pushed the button to make it go up, she looked at Ron's body and grabbed one of his hands, tears spilling down her cheeks.

_Resist, Ron. Be strong, my love. I'll save you. You and this child are my life, and I swear I won't let you die._

— — o — —

The man and the woman dropped onto the floor, unconscious, and Sbalkal approached the tank. He knew that, outside the Department of Mysteries, his men were battling other wizards and witches, and that, despite having destroyed the lifts, the Aurors would be there soon. Besides, Harry Potter, the Minister and others were now joining the battle.

He had to hurry up.

As he moved closer to the tank, he felt the pressure on his mind and soul grow stronger, but it didn't matter, not anymore. He was now powerful enough to overcome it. He stopped a few feet away from the tank. Some brains touched the glass, attracted by his presence. However, the one in which he was interested was not among them. It was trying to hide, to avoid him, no matter how futile its attempts were.

"It's been so long, my dear friend," he muttered softly, and, with a simple wish of his will, the glass shattered, and the green liquid spilled everywhere. It was the second time this tank had been destroyed, and the last time several of the brains had been ruined. Several, but not the one he was interested in, the most special of them all, the one that was trying to retreat, even though it was useless.

The other brains, sensing his presence, tried to outstretch their tentacles of thought towards him, but, with a simple thought, he sent them away flying and they got smashed against the walls. He focused all his attention on the only one remaining.

The brain tried to fight, but to no avail. It was now almost powerless, while he was the strongest he had been in a long time.

_We shall talk later_, Sbalkal thought, projecting his thoughts into the brain_. Now I'm in a hurry, as you very well know. For now..._

The brain rose up in the air, and a glittering, transparent golden sphere appeared out of thin air and surrounded it.

_Look at yourself. Once you were the greatest, and now...just a defenceless brain. Ah, how much I despise you...!_

Something else drew his attention. Scholdt had fallen, and the other three would soon be outnumbered. He had to hurry up, so he moved towards one of the doors in the room, the glittering sphere floating behind him. The door opened, and he found himself atop the highest row of stone benches in a room that resembled an old Roman amphitheatre. At its centre, a raised platform had been placed, and upon it, _the Archway._

At last.

In the corridor, Pucey was hit by a curse and fell, dead.

_Come into the Department. Follow my voice. Destroy the door so they cannot follow you._

_Master? _came Mathery's reply. _Is — is it you? Is this telepathy?_

_Follow my orders, idiot._

"Who are you and what are you doing here?"

An old man with a long beard was standing near the platform, looking at the Archway. He was alone.

Sbalkal rose a few inches up in the air and floated slowly towards the platform, landing softly upon it.

"I've come to take the Archway with me."

"WHAT?" the man asked, bewildered, both by Sbalkal's statement and by the fact that he could fly. "This is the Ministry's property! You can't take it with you. And get off the dais; the veil is too dangerous. You don't know what you're dealing w—"

"This is not the Ministry's," Sbalkal replied, eyeing the Archway. He could hear the whispers, the voices, and yet they had no effect on him. Only those who were weak and felt attracted to what was beyond the veil, to going back to the origin, suffered its effects. "And I know very well what I'm dealing with, much better than you, in fact."

There was a loud noise, like an explosion, and the old man turned to look at the doors that led to the circular room.

"What's that? What's happening? And what the —? Wait a moment — _is that a brain_? One of _our_ brains?"

"Shut up," Sbalkal shouted, irritated by the man's incessant talk. He _pushed_ against his mind, and he dropped to the floor, out cold.

_Marvin, resist a bit more. James, come here._

_My Lord...?_

_Yes, master. I'm coming._

A few seconds later, a door opened, and soon Mathery was climbing down the benches, sweaty and dishevelled, his robes torn at some places. The door closed itself after him.

"Master, Marvin won't resist much longer; they —"

"Never mind. Just come here. We'll take care of Marvin later."

"Yes, my lord."

Sbalkal hadn't even looked at his slave. He got closer to the old archway and saw the veil move...he was so close...

He touched the stone and felt Mathery get closer to him, frightened by the Archway.

"Master, what's happening? What are we doing here?"

Sbalkal didn't answer. When Mathery got close enough, he simply disappeared, taking the Archway, the brain and his servant with him.

— — o — —

"Will he be all right?" Hermione asked, watching the healers apply charms and potions to Ron's wound. Mr Weasley had gone to The Burrow to inform Mrs Weasley and the others of what had happened.

"He will," one of them answered. "Although I have to admit we had never seen something like this. It looks like Dark magic, and yet it is not Dark magic. Who did this to him? Or rather, _what?"_

"The man you knew as Aldus Adder."

"Eh?" the healer said, surprised. "But — wasn't he going to be judged today?"

"Yes," Hermione answered, not giving more detail. She was too worried about Ron, as well as Harry and Kingsley. Who knew what was happening at the Ministry? Who knew what Sbalkal, that monster, had done?

The healer Conjured new bandages and wrapped Ron's torso in them.

"He's stopped bleeding," he said. "We'll give him a Blood Replenishing potion now and he should be all right soon. He will have to spend the night here, though."

"I don't care, as long as he's fine."

The healers administered the potion to Ron, and then left the room. Hermione took a chair and sat down next to him, watching his still pale face. She grabbed one of his hands in hers.

She had just done that when Mr and Mrs Weasley came into the room, Mrs Weasley looking extremely anxious and worried.

"Ron? Ronnie? Oh, my son!" she almost cried, running to his side and grabbing his other hand in hers. "How's he? Will he be okay?" she asked, speaking very quickly.

"He will," Hermione answered, trying to sound calmer than she felt. "The healers have stopped the bleeding. He will be all right, Molly."

"Oh, thank Merlin!" Mrs Weasley shouted, relieved.

"Any news about Harry or Ginny?" Mr Weasley asked.

"No," Hermione answered, and bit her bottom lip.

"What happened, Arthur?" Mrs Weasley asked, looking at his husband. "How did that horrible man escaped? How did he do this to Ron?"

"No one understands what happened, or how," Hermione began to answer. "He showed powers I had never —"

"'Ermione? Mum?"

"Ron!" Hermione shouted, jumping off her chair and bending over him. "How are you? Are you all right?"

"I feel weary an' a bit confused," he answered. "What hap—" His eyes opened widely. "SBALKAL!" he shouted, startling everyone, and tried to sit up, but both Hermione and Mrs Weasley stopped him.

"Ron, stay still!" Mrs Weasley scolded him. "You've almost bled to death!"

"Where is he?" Ron asked, consumed by rage. "WHERE IS HE!?"

"I don't know," Hermione answered. "I was too worried about you; the only thing I could think about was bringing you here, because I couldn't stop the b-bleeding," she explained, feeling again at the brink of tears. "Harry is still at the Ministry, though."

Ron clenched his teeth. "Blevelty," he remembered suddenly. "Blevelty helped him."

Hermione nodded. "He released Mathery and the others."

"Fucking traitor!" he said, angry. "Surely that was why he didn't let me and Harry on the case. He probably has been passing information to him all this time."

"According to him, Sbalkal healed his daughter, and threatened to let her die if he didn't do as told," Hermione said sadly. "I — I don't know what I would have done..."

"Certainly it isn't an enviable situation," Mr Weasley interjected.

"I promised Julie he'd spend his life in Azkaban," Ron muttered, half-angry, half-sad. "I promised her parents...and now he's free again, and killing." He looked up at Hermione. "Terry and the others...?"

Hermione looked into his eyes, which were pleading for good news, and she felt terrible for not having any. She shook her head.

"They — they're dead."

Ron clenched his fist and gritted his teeth. Mrs Weasley put her hand over her mouth, horrified.

"Bloody monster, bloody murderer..." Ron muttered under his breath. He made a new attempt to get up, only to be thwarted again by his mother. "I have to go, Mum! I need to know what's happening at the Ministry! Harry might need my help!"

"It's a bit late for that," a voice said from the doorway.

"Harry!" Ron and Hermione yelled in surprise. Hermione took in his appearance. He was dishevelled, had a deep cut on the left cheek and was covered in dust. Ginny, looking better, but very tired, was standing next to him.

"How are you?" Ginny asked his brother, before being enveloped in a hug by her mother. "Mum, I'm okay."

"I'll survive," Ron answered. He fixed his eyes on Harry, anxious and eager. "Tell me: where is he? What's happened?"

"He went into the Department of Mysteries," Harry explained. "But he's no longer there. He escaped."

"He escaped?" repeated Ron. "But — how —?"

Harry shook his head. "I'll know more later, I hope. Now I have to go back; I just wanted to be sure you were okay."

"He went into the Department of Mysteries?" Hermione asked, very intrigued. "Why?"

"He ordered his men to stop us; they even destroyed the entrance to the Department and the lifts, but we managed to defeat them. Gealt is again in custody, Scholdt and Pucey are dead, and Mathery went into the Department. We searched everywhere, but they were not there."

"But how?" asked Ron. "You cannot Disapparate in the Department of Mysteries! And there isn't another entrance!"

"I know," Harry said dejectedly. "But he did."

"How do you know?" Hermione asked. "They could be hidden, or under Concealing Charms."

"They took with them one brain and that — that archway of the veil, the one Sirius — well, you know. It wouldn't be easy to conceal that, don't you think?"

"WHAT?" Hermione bellowed, shocked. "The archway? But — why?"

Harry shrugged. "Who knows?"

"There's something else I don't understand," Ginny said, and everyone looked at her. "Why did he attack Ron, but leave him alive? He said he could kill us all in a second."

"Don't say that!" Hermione bellowed, not wanting to think about that terrible scenario.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, but if you think about it —"

"Who knows why he does what he does?" said Harry angrily.

"This is a nightmare," Hermione said suddenly, and then wiped away the tears in her eyes. "This should be over, and instead, he is free, a lot of people are dead and — and ..." her voice faded. No one knew what to say.

"I have to go back to the Ministry," Harry said after a while. "There's a lot to do."

"If Ron's okay, I'll go with you," Ginny said.

"I think I'll go, too," Mr Weasley added.

The three of them said goodbye to Ron and Hermione, saying that they would be back later, and left.

Mrs Weasley turned towards Hermione.

"Dear, why don't you go and have a tea? I'll stay with Ron meanwhile."

"I'm okay, Molly, thanks."

"I'm fine, Hermione," Ron stated, clutching her left hand in his and trying to calm her. "Physically, at least." A thoughtful look appeared on his face, and he remained silent for a while. "Those things he did ... how did he do them? The chains, the way he — he hit Terry, the way he wounded me ... All of that, without a wand. I've never, in my entire life, seen anything like that."

"I have," Hermione said. "The cloaked man that saved me that day, at home ... The way he moved, the way he did that kind of magic without a wand ... It looked so alike to what we saw today. Whoever they are, I'm sure they are related."

"What does all this mean?" wondered Ron. "And what do we have to do with it? If he's not after Muggleborns ... What have we to do with them? We had never seen Sbalkal. But he hates us so much, he — he killed Julie just because she was my friend ... and then he leaves me alive — why? This does not make any sense," he added, sad and frustrated.

Neither Hermione nor Mrs Weasley knew what to say.

Hermione grabbed his left hand in hers and kissed it. "Don't blame yourself, Ron, please."

"I won't," he assured. "It's just —" he seemed not to know what to say and fell silent.

Seeing that Ron seemed to be all right, Mrs Weasley told that him she was going to inform Ron's other brothers, but assured them she would be back soon. She kissed Ron and left, leaving Ron and Hermione alone in the room, their hands entwined, both silent and thoughtful.

— — o — —

Sbalkal contemplated the old archway and the slightly swaying veil, now standing in the centre of the poorly illuminated chamber. He didn't need light to see, though, because the reason he was interested the most in the Archway could not be seen, or heard, or touched. He perceived the distress of the brain, still floating inside the glittering sphere behind him, and smiled. The time has come, and _it_ knew.

He felt Mathery walking into the chamber before he could hear his steps. He could perceive his fear, and _hear_ how scared his thoughts _sounded_ inside his head. _Was he interrupting his master? What did he want to do with that terrifying archway?_ Sbalkal felt his eyes move all around, his gaze lingering for a few moments on the brain and the Archway. Sbalkal, with his eyes still fixed on the veil, smiled.

"Ask what you want to know, James, for curiosity is, after all, what leads us to knowledge."

Mathery gulped.

"My lord ... what is all this? Why did you st— take that ... brain?"

Sbalkal turned round, and looked briefly at his servant before laying his eyes on the brain. He gave a few steps towards it.

"This is not a simple brain like the others," Sbalkal said. "It belonged to the man who taught me everything."

"Taught you —" Mathery said, bewildered. "Who was he?"

"His name was Pyret," Sbalkal explained. "He was the only being I have ever admired. But he died long ago, and now this is just what remains of his former self, a brain that holds his memories and part of his will and power. Just a shadow of what he once was."

"I — I don't understand, sir."

"I know you don't," Sbalkal said.

"I've heard about these brains," Mathery added, trying to cause a good impression by demonstrating he knew things. Sbalkal laughed inwardly at the idea. "They extract them from people that had donated them just after death and they use them to study the secrets of the mind —"

"It was Pyret who invented the technique to extract brains," Sbalkal said, not allowing Mathery to finish his explanation. "He was the first one that did it. But of course, his brain is the most special of them all. When he died, he wanted to leave something here, something to guide others. He didn't want all his knowledge wasted."

"His knowledge?" Mathery repeated, confused.

"That's why he is here," Sbalkal said. "Because I need some information he possesses. He has defied and thwarted me for a long, very long time, but now I have, at long last, the upper hand."

"Thwart you? But — master, it's just a brain. How could it —?" Mathery fell silent and retreated under the glare Sbalkal threw at him.

"I don't expect you to understand. These are matters far beyond your comprehension, and I don't have time enough to explain it all. Just watch. I'm going to do it now, because I've already waited long enough." He shut up and looked at the brain. "Ready, _master_?" he asked, and the glittering cage vanished.

The moment it was free, the brain began to unfold its ribbons of thought; as in response, Sbalkal rolled up the sleeves of his robes, and then focused his will on the brain.

_Tell me what I want to know. Tell me what I need to know. NOW!_

He raised his hands and grabbed the brain, digging his fingers into it. The moment he did so, the ribbons of thought snaked around his naked arms, digging into them. There was a hissing noise, like fresh meat touching white-hot metal, and Sbalkal felt his skin and flesh melt where the tentacles where touching him. Blood began to spill from the grooves, running in narrow streams down his arms and falling to the floor in thick drops, but he didn't mind. Physical pain was nothing. His body was just a means.

_Tell me_, he repeated, concentrating all his willpower on the brain.

And the battle began.

— — o — —

"Do you think things are gonna get even worse?" Ron asked Hermione, his expression thoughtful and serious. "With Sbalkal, I mean. Worse than before. If he really escaped ..."

The honest answer was "yes."

"I don't know," she answered, looking down. "I — I just hope not. Though I have to admit that, back there in the courtroom, I felt more scared than ever before in my life," she confessed. She raised her gaze to meet his. "What do you think?"

"I reckon we haven't seen anything yet," Ron said darkly. "I think that —"

"Ron?"

Ron didn't answer. His eyes were now glassy and unfocused. He had become suddenly very pale, and was beginning to shake from head to toe.

"Ron, what's the matter? Are you all right? RON!"

"No ... no ..." he muttered, looking completely frightened. "No, no, no, NO!"

Ron, you're scaring me!" Hermione bellowed. She bent over him and began to shake him, trying to get him out of that sort of trance he was in. "Ron, please!"

But Ron didn't seem even to see her; he was acting as if he were in another place.

"No, no!"

"SOMEONE HELP ME!" Hermione yelled towards the door. "PLEASE!" She looked back at Ron and she saw his head drop onto the pillow, his whole body shaking. He had turned even paler, and had started to sweat profusely.

"No ... no ..."

"No what, Ron? Ron, please, answer me. ANSWER ME!"

"It hurts," Ron muttered, his voice full of terror. "Stop, it hurts. It hurts, it hurts, IT HURTS!"

— — o — —

The resistance of Pyret's brain was crumbling. With great satisfaction, he tightened his hold on it, and felt, in exchange, the ribbons of thought dig even deeper into the flesh of his arms. They were touching the bone now, but he didn't care, because he was seeing it, he was getting the flashes, he was emptying the brain of his last knowledge.

_Yes, tell me, tell me everything. Tell me what I need to know ..._

_— — o — —  
_

Two of the healers that had tended to Ron when he had arrived at the hospital entered the room almost running.

"What's happening?" asked one of them. "What's wrong with him?"

"I don't know!" Hermione yelled, in the verge of tears. "We were just talking and — you have to help him!"

The healers moved closer, each to one side of him, and Hermione tried to move away from him to let them work, but Ron's had grabbed hers and clutched it tightly.

"It hurts," Ron kept muttering. "He's gonna kill me ... He must be stopped ... He must be stopped. Hermione, you have to understand!"

"I do, I understand, Ron," answered Hermione, not understanding at all. It was obvious that Ron was referring to the Archway with the veil Sbalkal has stolen, so 'he' must refer to him, but she didn't get what Ron was trying to tell her.

The healers began to apply some charms to him, but none of them seemed to have any effect.

"It hurts," Ron moaned, his face contorted in pain. "It hurts. He's going to win ... get it back ..."

"Ron, please!" Hermione cried. "I don't understand you. Please, come back."

But Ron seemed not to have heard her, and kept thrashing on the bed and muttering unintelligible things.

— — o — —

There they were, the answers to all his questions. He drank avidly all the knowledge still present in the brain. It was not all the knowledge Pyret had once had, of course, but it was enough for him.

Finally, using the force of his will, he broke the ribbons of thought and threw the brain to the ground of the cave, breaking their connection. He raised his arms, now covered in deep, bloody grooves. He looked past them, at the brain, which was thrashing on the ground, and smiled. At once, the wounds in his arms began to heal. New flesh appeared and, after just a few seconds, fresh, untarnished skin covered the injuries, so both arms were again as good as new.

"Oh, Merlin!" Mathery muttered, completely awestruck.

Sbalkal ignored him and approached the brain slowly.

"Thank you for the information; rest assured I'll use it properly," he said with a sneer. "Well ... now you're nothing. You've given all you had to give. You're nothing but a wreck. And yet you've caused me so much trouble ..." He was now standing above the brain, and looked down at it with dislike all over his face. "You chose to die. So stick to that decision," he muttered. The moment he stopped talking, he raised his left leg and smashed the brain with his foot, causing it to make a squishing sound and a grey substance to spill everywhere.

"Good bye, Master."

— — o — —

Ron stopped moving suddenly, and stayed still, the only movement in his body the rise and fall of his chest as he panted. He blinked a few times, and then, slowly, turned his head to look at Hermione.

"Ron?" she asked tentatively. "Ron, are you all right? What happened?"

"Hermione ..." Ron said, still pale, his eyes filled with panic. "Hermione ... we all are in terrible danger ... Sbalkal is ready to use the Archway ..."

"What?" Hermione asked. "Ron, explain yourself a bit better, I don't get what you're trying to tell us. How do you know this? What happened to you?"

"Do you feel okay, Mr Weasley?" one of the healers asked. "Are you suffering a migraine? Confusion?"

"No, I'm —"

"Ron? RON!"

Ron's body has suffered a terrible spasm, and his mouth was wide open, as if trying to scream but unable to do so. And then, he became completely still and closed his eyes, unconscious.

— — o — —

"You are a privileged man, James," Sbalkal told Mathery as he walked away from the place where the rest of the brain lay and moved closer to the Archway. "You are about to contemplate the beginning of a new era."

"Am — am I, my lord?"

"You are," Sbalkal confirmed. He was now just a few feet away from the Archway. "Come closer."

Mathery hesitated for a moment, and then did as told. Sbalkal could feel the fear growing inside him and could sense his doubts. For the first time since he had become his servant, James Mathery was questioning his choice. For the first time, he was wondering if he had done the right thing joining him. Sbalkal smiled imperceptibly. It was too late to quit now.

"My lord, I don't feel comfortable near that _thing_. I — I've hear rumours about it..."

"Rumours," Sbalkal repeated, nodding. He turned his head and looked at the other man. "And what have you heard?"

"That it — it has something to do with death itself."

"Quite right," Sbalkal said, looking again at the Archway. "In the Department of Mysteries, this object was known as 'The Veil' or 'The Gate of Death.' Both names suit it, of course. But let me tell you that its original name is _the Archway of Pyret_."

He felt Mathery's shock.

"Archway of — my lord, when you say _Pyret_, you mean —"

"— The same man whose brain I've just smashed, yes. He was a genius, James. The greatest. Your people have had this extraordinary item down there for so long, but have never been able to understand fully what they were dealing with. They thought it was some kind of extraordinary magic which made it work ..." He snorted. "Idiots. Magic could never do what this object does.

"You see, James. Long time ago, I lost something very valuable. I lost part of myself. Ever since, I've felt incomplete; I've felt weak. All my dreams and desires were put on hold, because they were unfeasible. And in the whole universe, this object, this Archway, is the only thing that can help me get it back."

"I'm not sure if I'm following you, sir. By the way you speak, one would think you're a very old man, and yet you look about the same age as me."

"Oh, I'm much older than I look," Sbalkal answered. "And don't worry if you don't understand what I'm explaining. Your people have been studying death for centuries, even millennia; and yet you know nothing about it. Beyond this veil, James, is what I lost, part of my own soul. And now, after so long, I have the necessary power to get it back using the Archway."

Sbalkal focused his attention on the Archway, feeling its properties, feeling _it_. And now, with the knowledge he had got out of Pyret's brain, he knew what he had to do.

He felt the soft breeze of energy crossing it; he felt the presence of what lay _behind_ the veil, the gate that was an entrance to the other side of Dimension Zero, the primordial one, which was source and destiny of everything.

The veil began to shake more forcefully, and the entire Archway began to glow, now charged with all kinds of energy and forces. The gate was now ready to be opened. The only necessary thing was the key.

"Know what, James? This is a gate to death, and therefore there's only one way to open it the way I need."

"Master ...? What do —?"

Sbalkal didn't let him finish his question. Using his powers, he lifted Mathery's body from the ground, and without another word or explanation, threw him through the veil.

The body, energy and magic that had constituted it dissolved instantly, as those things could not cross the gate. Only his soul remained, and, as it travelled towards a place that was everywhere and nowhere, the gate opened.

He was ready, and when that happened, he immediately forced his will to search for it, for that other part of him, for that part of his soul that had been taken from him against nature. A part that was there and yet still connected to him. He felt the presence of the souls on the other side, the ones that could not come back, and, amongst them, he felt _it_, his lost part, seeking him as he sought it. And using every ounce of his willpower and all the power he had gathered during the past years, he forced the gate to remain open, causing the Archway to shake, and called for that piece of Essence that was part of his, a part that could come back because it was forever linked to its core, which was on this side.

And when he felt it was close, he plunged his left arm into the old, ragged veil. Instantaneously, the matter that constituted it was destroyed, turned into the primary Essence. That Essence was still part of him, and, on the other side, it connected with his lost part. He didn't care about his lost arm. Pain, body, meant nothing. He could give himself another arm. His soul being complete again was the only thing that mattered.

Through the point where his arm dissolved, a link was formed between the two sides of the veil, through the gate kept open by the Archway, and his soul on this side connected with the part on the other. The intensity of the connection was so strong he couldn't help letting out a terrible yell. The effort of keeping the gate open was too much, and he felt his power vanishing. The Archway was now glowing as if made of fire, emitting such amounts of energy that he would have died long ago if he were not what he was. And even so, he could feel his skin being burnt, and his hair falling; but he wouldn't stop, not now, because he was almost there, he needed just another small effort —

A new, terrible scream filled the cave, and the gate closed, causing a shock wave that sent him flying backwards for about twenty yards until he fell to the ground with a loud thud. His arm was bleeding profusely and his body was drained and completely exhausted.

But he felt happy — absolutely, utterly happy.

Because he could feel it, his soul was complete once more. After so long, it was healing, and though the process would take time, it didn't matter, because he could feel his true power inside him, working. Soon, it would start growing once more.

He would need to cure his body, too. What with the terrible radiation coming off the Archway — Magic, electromagnetic waves — he knew he was suffering a severe form of cancer that would, eventually, devour him.

But he would take care of that later. For now, he just let his soul heal.

— — o — —

Hermione was sitting next to Ron, stroking his right cheek lovingly. When he had lost consciousness, the healers had examined him and had concluded, shockingly, that he was not unconscious, but had fallen in a deep slumber, just as if he had been exhausted, so they had decided not to do anything for the time being, except letting him sleep and rest, and check on him again later.

While she watched him sleep, she thought about all the things that had happened until then, and the strange things Ron had mentioned during that odd seizure.

"What's happening, Ron?" she muttered. "Tell me, please."

Ron didn't answer, and she sighed. She felt drained, terribly tired after what had happened that day, and felt a sudden desire to take a nap. She manoeuvred on the chair, getting a bit more comfortable, and closed her eyes for a moment.

She woke up with a start, feeling a bit disoriented, not knowing what time it was or how much she had slept. She looked at Ron's bed to check whether he had woken up and froze.

Ron's bed was empty.

Feeling an unbearable fear grow inside her, she stood up and approached the bed. She thought that maybe he was in the bathroom, but she found out he wasn't when she checked. Starting to panic, she looked at the bedside table and noticed that Ron's wand, which had been lying there, was gone as well; instead, there was a small piece of parchment. With a few long strides, she was next to the table and took the parchment, on which Ron had written two lines in his untidy writing.

_I'm sorry, Hermione.  
Never forget I love you and the baby._

Hermione felt suddenly weak in the knees and had to put her hands on the table to prevent her from falling. A terrible fear was devouring her from inside, and she felt it increasingly hard to breathe. Finally, after a few seconds of shock, she managed to put herself together, regained her ability to move and began to walk towards the door.

"Ron, no, Ron, no ..."

She checked her watch, and found out that she had been asleep for less than ten minutes, so she began to search for him, running across the corridors, asking healers and other people whether they know where he was. However, no one seemed to have seen him so was unable to help, causing Hermione to feel more and more desperate.

Panting heavily, she ran towards the stairs and climbed them down until she was in the reception. She looked around her and then ran towards the information desk.

"Please, have you seen my husband?" she asked desperately. "Ron Weasley, he's tall and ginger and —"

"I know who he is, Ms Granger," the woman behind the desk told her. "And yes, he went out just a moment ago; he seemed in a hurry. And it is strange, because supposedly he was going to spe—"

"Thank you!" Hermione replied, running towards the exit before the woman had finished her sentence. She went through the fake wall and found herself outside the hospital building in London, under the soft rain that was falling. Frantically, she looked all around, hoping to see Ron's tall form and distinctive red hair, but he was nowhere to be seen.

"Ron ...? Ron, p-please," she muttered, starting to cry. "Please, Ron, come back. Come back to me ..." she added, her voice fading.

Several people stared at her, while she was now openly crying and getting soaked under the rain, with pity in their eyes, but she didn't mind them, because none of them was the person she wanted to see ... the person she could not see.

Ron, it seemed, had left her, and was gone.

**END OF PART I**


	17. A Tale of Life and Death

_Well, here we are. I know you're anxious for this chapter, but you'll understand that some time will be good before reading this chapter. You'll know why soon._

_I won't bore you, I know you want to read. So just tell you that this part is composed of ten chapters and thank __**Kathy**__ for her wonderful help._

* * *

**PART II**

**TALES OF OLD SECRETS**

_**Chapter 17**_

**A Tale of Life and Death**

* * *

_28__th__ December, 1926_

Big snowflakes were slowly falling over London, covering the city in a white blanket as the night descended over it. It was very cold; few people were on the streets, and those who were hurried up to reach their destinations. However, Sbalkal was completely immobile, watching a building with his hands in the pockets of the dark cloak he was wearing.

He was ignoring completely the Muggles walking past him at a fast pace, focused only on what lay beneath the building he was watching.

The Ministry of Magic, with the Department of Mysteries in it, was under this building, hidden in a dimensional bend that Muggles could not see and wizards did not really understand.

And inside the Department, the Archway of Pyret, that object he so desired and that object he so needed, stood on a raised platform. So close, and yet so unreachable, because even from here he could feel the protection Pyret's brain held around the Department, ensuring he wasn't able to get close enough to take it. Ah, how much he regretted not having taken the Archway while he could! But while he was at the height of his power, he had never had a real interest on it. And now ... now he was too weak.

He clenched his fists. He knew that he had the power to defy Pyret's protection. After all, he was dead. But the problem was that, to retrieve his lost part, he would need much more power, as he would to get the information from the brain itself.

Power.

Oh, how he missed it! It had been too long. Despite how powerful he was in comparison to others, he felt weak; even though his senses were far sharper than other wizards' and Muggles', he felt blind and deaf.

He turned to the left and started to walk. He knew exactly what he needed, but it was so difficult to get! His attempts thus far had been unsuccessful, complete failures. It would be much easier if he got some more power, but to get it, he would need something — someone — very special. Muggles were out of the question. The connection the soul of a wizard had with magic was much more useful.

But which wizard?

He had asked himself this question thousands of times across the years, and yet here he was. He was patient, yes, but he was starting to become desperate, because after —

He stopped suddenly. What was that?

He looked around, but not with his eyes, but with his mind and soul, exploring, seeking, touching.

He wasn't far from Diagon Alley, and there it was, a possible answer to his pleas. Not caring if someone saw him or not, he disappeared, materialising a moment later next to the wall that led to the Alley. Without stopping, he walked into the Leaky Cauldron, now almost full of wizards and witches talking animatedly and enjoying their drinks, and fixed his eyes on a woman that was sitting, alone, at a table in the darkest corner of the pub.

A woman called Merope Gaunt was sad, alone and almost without any money. This woman was hated by her family and abandoned by her husband, and had no hopes and no dreams. But none of that was the reason he was so interested in her.

The woman was pregnant. Was, in fact, about to give birth to a boy, a wizard ...

An extraordinary powerful wizard; a wizard that was a descendant of Salazar Slytherin; a wizard that had been abandoned by his father, a Muggle; a wizard that had everything in him to become a powerful dark sorcerer, maybe the worst of all time. He just would need a few pushes in the right direction.

For a few minutes, Sbalkal watched the woman, who remained focused on her tea, ignorant of the attention she had drawn. He observed, and thought about the future, exploring it, trying to determine the events to come and discover the right path to follow.

He walked towards her across the pub and stopped right next to her. She looked up at him quizzically.

_Come with me_.

She stood up and, without saying anything, followed him upstairs to the room where she was staying. They both went in and then he closed the door. She just stood there in the middle of the room, staring at him, completely subjugated to his will.

"Lie on the bed."

She did as told. He moved closer to her, and looked down at her still body.

_Sleep._

She closed her eyes, dead to the world, and he smiled, fixing his eyes on her large belly.

"So Tom Riddle," he muttered. "That will be your name when you are born and your mother knows you're a boy." He fell silent, and remained that way for a few seconds before speaking again. "You'll be so useful to me, Tom." He focused his attention on the child and touched his soul and his magic, breaking all the bounds and making it accessible to him.

"You'll discover your powers at a young age. You'll discover what you can do very soon, how different you are, how _superior_ you are to them. You'll need this to become what I need you to be. You'll also need to know that your father abandoned you. What you won't need," he added, looking at Merope's face, "is a mother, someone that loves and cares for you. No, a mother could ruin my plans, and we don't want that, do we?" He crouched down, put his elbows on his knees and folded his hands. "I'll help you, Tom Riddle, to become the most powerful and feared dark wizard of all time. I'll guide you in the shadows, and you shall be as evil as possible; evil shall corrupt your soul to a degree hitherto not known, and then ... then you shall die, and I'll take your soul, piece by piece, to strengthen mine.

"But don't worry, there is still a long road ahead of us until then." And then Sbalkal left his mark in the still whole and untarnished soul, so one day he would be able to protect it from definitive death and take it to mend his, even if just temporarily. He looked at Merope's face again.

"Life has been so hard for you, hasn't it, poor girl? Each day was a nightmare. Bullied by your brother and father, despised by the man you loved. You're so close to giving up. But I have good news for you. Soon you'll be able to rest, because you're now ill, Merope. Ill and weak, and you won't be strong enough to live once you give birth to your son. But don't worry," he added, and smiled, "I'll take care of him."

And having sentenced her to death, he turned round and walked towards the door. But before leaving the room, he focused once more on her mind.

_You won't remember me._

Then he walked out, climbed down the stairs, left the pub through the door that led to the Muggle world and disappeared, appearing an instant later on the top of a building nearby. He sat down, as the darkness and snow fell around him, feeling almost ecstatic. Yes, it would take time, but time was something he had in abundance. And now he had a plan. Now he had hope. He was on the right path once more. This casual discovery was definitive proof that the universe was on his side, and that he was meant to regain his power and rule over it.

He smiled, and waited.

— — o — —

"Push hard, Hermione!" the healer said from between her legs.

Hermione screamed, and Harry clutched her hand as tightly as he could without actually hurting her, his eyes fixed on her face, sweaty due to the efforts she was making, and couldn't help but feel a wave of sadness overwhelm him. He knew he should feel fortunate; he was with Hermione during one of the most — or maybe _the most_ — important moments of her life. He was there for her, because he would always be there for her, as she had always been there for him when he had needed her. Hermione, the sister he had never had, one of the most important people in his life and someone for whom he would die without a second thought.

So he should feel happy and glad, shouldn't he?

No.

No, because he shouldn't be the one standing there; he shouldn't be the one whose hand she was clutching. He knew how much it meant for Hermione that he was there, but it wasn't _right_.

He should be outside, waiting with Ginny and the rest of their family. Ron should be the one here; Ron should be the one holding his wife's hand while she gave birth to their first daughter. Ron, not him.

But he wasn't.

Three months and a half had gone by since the day of the trial, since that awful day when Sbalkal had escaped and Ron had disappeared. Despite the Ministry's efforts, neither of them had been spotted ever since.

As he held Hermione's hand, Harry's thoughts wandered to that day, when, terribly upset and with red and blotchy eyes, Hermione had walked into the messy Auror Office at the Ministry and had told him that Ron had left St Mungo's without telling anybody, leaving just a simple goodbye note. She had broken down in his arms, and he, still shocked, had tried to comfort her, telling her that it was not possible and that Ron would be back soon.

But that hadn't come true.

The entire family had begun to search for him, looking everywhere and asking everyone. Harry had wanted the Ministry to search for him as well, but, after so many casualties, the Aurors were overwhelmed, and Sbalkal was the top priority. Word had spread of what had happened in the courtroom and the Department of Mysteries, and it had caused a tidal wave of panic that had spread over the whole Wizarding community. The Ministry had helped, yes, but, as there was no evidence of a kidnapping, Kingsley had told them they couldn't do more, busy as they were, though he had authorised the Aurors to search for him whenever they had time.

A new scream from Hermione drew his attention back to her. Giving birth would be far easier with magic, but, apart from a potion, healers — and practically everyone in the Wizarding world — were against using magic during birth, except in extreme cases. Wizards believed that the act of giving birth was magical enough in itself. Harry and Hermione, who had grown up in the Muggle world, didn't understand this — especially when Muggles had means of preventing pain. When James was born, Harry had suggested it, _even_ threatened the healers, seeing how in pain Ginny was, but she had refused it with her usual determination. Harry could not really understand it, though surely Ron would, he had been raised in the Wizarding world, after all ...

"Just a bit more, Hermione!"

"Oh, God!" she screamed, pushing harder. "Harrrryyyy!"

"I'm here, Hermione," he said, squeezing her hand. "You're doing it wonderfully. Just a bit more, okay?"

Hermione let out a sob.

"I need Ron h-here." Pant. "Why isn't he with me, Harry?" Pant. "Why isn't he here? I — I need him and he left me ... he l-left me ..."

Harry didn't know what to say. During the last three months, his feelings regarding Ron had gone in cycles: confusion ... worry ... anger ... confusion ... worry ... anger ...

Where was he? He thought about James, and about the new baby growing inside Ginny, and knew that nothing in the world would prevent him from being there with Ginny while she gave birth to them. Shouldn't Ron want the same? How could he have done this to Hermione?

After Ron's disappearance, Hermione had taken a few days off, despite how she was needed at the Ministry, and she — along with the Weasleys and Harry — had looked everywhere. They feared that Ron had been abducted by Sbalkal, but, as he had written the note and the receptionist at St Mungo's had said he had walked out on his own, that seemed unlikely, except if he had been captured later. The thought that Ron could be being held by Sbalkal was unbearable, and yet, Harry almost wanted to believe that, because, if that was not what had happened, then Ron had left his family deliberately; that was something Harry couldn't forgive, not after having seen Hermione become a shadow of herself these past months.

The Weasleys, their friends, Harry and especially Hermione had searched restlessly for weeks and weeks. They had tried everything: every charm, every spell, and every owl that could lead them to Ron, but to no avail. Hermione had even gone to Hogwarts sometimes to research for more means of magical search, until she got exhausted and Neville — who had taken over the duty of watching her when she was at the castle — had to send her home.

The first nights of the search she had slept at The Burrow, but, after a week, she had told Harry she was moving back to her house. Harry had tried to convince her otherwise, telling her that it wasn't safe for her to be alone, especially knowing that Sbalkal was free and he still was interested in her child. She had insisted, though, and finally had left, but Harry had gone to check on her that night, and had found her curled on her bed and sobbing. The image had almost broken his heart.

He had never been good at comforting her; he never knew what to say or what to do. And, despite his age and all the years they had been friends, he still found himself lost for words at the sight of a crying Hermione. Although it was true it had been a long time since the last time she had seen her miserable, she hadn't needed to be comforted during the last years. Finally, not knowing what else to do, he had just embraced her, not saying anything, and had let her cry silently against his chest for a few minutes before taking her to his house. Hermione didn't protest.

From then on, she had divided all her time between searching for Ron and working. She barely talked; her smile had vanished, just as her laughter. She had become a shell of her former self, and Harry no longer was sure if he knew what a happy Hermione looked like. It had been, in a way, like going back to those awful weeks during the Horcrux hunt, after Ron had left.

"Just one last push, Hermione. You can do it!"

Hermione let out a shriek, pushed with all her might, and then slumped on the bed, exhausted, and the room was filled with the cries of a newborn baby.

Harry smiled at her and squeezed her hand once more. "You did it. You did it, Hermione!"

"You've got such a beautiful daughter," one of the healers told her with a smile, and raised the child — who had been cleaned with a Cleaning Charm — so she could see her.

Harry took a wet towel and cleaned Hermione's sweaty face with it.

"Can — can I ... hold ... her?" Hermione asked, still panting, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

"Of course," the healer said, and put the baby carefully in her mother's arms, who embraced her lovingly and delicately. For the first time in nearly four months, Hermione smiled, _really_ smiled, already in love with the newborn girl.

"Rose," she muttered, cradling her in her arms and watching her in awe. "Rose. Do you like it, Harry?"

"It's perfect, Hermione. Just like her."

Hermione looked up at him, grinning, and, although the grin was real for the first time since Ron's disappearance, there was an unmistakable sadness filling her eyes. "Thank you for being with me. It — it means so much."

"There's no other place in the world I would be, Hermione."

"We'll leave her with you for a few minutes," the healers told them. "Do you want us to tell your family they can come in?"

Hermione was staring at Rose, so tiny in her arms, and gulped when she heard the question. "No. No, tell — tell them to wait a moment, please."

"As you wish," the healer said, and they left the room.

"Hermione?"

Hermione wiped away with her hands the tears that had begun to fill her eyes. "I'm fine, Harry. Fine. I — I just need a — a m-moment, that's all."

"Hermione, please, don't cry."

"I'm s-sorry," she said. "It's just that — that part of me hoped that, when this day came, Ron would appear, that he would be with me — with us," she added, looking at Rose. "I need h-him, Harry. I need him with me. I miss him so m-much."

"I know. I miss him, too."

"Why?" she asked for the umpteenth time. "Why did he leave me? I ... I thought he loved me."

"And he loved — _loves_ you, Hermione. I'm sure that, wherever he is, there is a good reason —"

"What reason?" she asked, interrupting him. "Tell me, Harry, what would keep you away from Ginny or your son? What?"

Harry looked down, not knowing what to say, because there was no answer. He thought about all the theories once more, all the things that could have made Ron leave. Was it that Sbalkal was after him and, as he was now free again, he had left to protect them? Hermione had narrated to him what had happened to Ron in the hospital, the strange attack he had suffered and what he had said. But, as they didn't understand it, that didn't give them any clue. They even had investigated about the old archway and the brain, but there wasn't a lot of information. Nobody knew for sure how the archway worked, just that it had been brought to the Ministry at the beginning of the nineteenth century, from Egypt. What Sbalkal would want it for, nobody had been able to tell them.

Harry sighed, and Hermione looked up at him, trying to keep a straight face.

"Tell them to come in, please," she said.

Harry nodded, stood up and opened the door.

"You can come," he said, trying to smile.

Immediately, the Weasleys and Grangers ran to the room and went in, stopping at the foot of the bed.

"Oh, Hermione!" her mother said, her eyes bright. "She's so beautiful," she added, her voice full of emotion, while approaching her daughter.

"How are you feeling, dear? Tired?" Mrs Weasley asked, getting closer to her as well. Harry looked at her, and felt a pang of sympathy towards her. Mrs Weasley had suffered a lot with Fred's death, and now had to deal with Ron's disappearance. She believed firmly that Ron was in trouble, or that something had happened to him; she refused to believe that Ron had left Hermione and his child.

"Exhausted," Hermione answered.

"She's so pretty," Ginny commented, smiling at Hermione and caressing the baby's face. Hermione grinned back at her.

"May I hold her?" Ms Granger asked.

"Of course, Mum."

Mrs Granger took Rose from Hermione's arms and her face broke into a wide smile. "Look, William! We're grandparents!"

"She's really beautiful, Hermione," William Granger said, also smiling.

"Ron will love 'er," Fleur commented, getting close to the other women.

The air in the room became suddenly very tense. Hermione's smile drifted off her face and she looked down, not wanting to face the sympathetic looks of her family.

"He should be here," George commented harshly. From Ron's brothers, he was the one who had taken Ron's disappearance the hardest. After all, they had become very close after Fred's death, when Ron had been the one to help him the most with the shop.

"'E will," Fleur assured, giving George a stern glare. "Only a very good reason could keep 'im away from 'is daughter and 'Ermione."

"That's what we all believed," George said, his voice filled with anger and pain.

"_George_," Mr Weasley said, very serious.

"Zat's what I know," Fleur replied to George. "I watched 'im fret day and night, back zen, while 'e was at our place and didn't know where 'Arry and 'Ermione where. I saw 'im take care of 'er when they escaped from the Malfoys'. 'E may not be perfect, but 'e loves 'er, and if 'e's not 'ere, then zere must be a good reason. I'm completely sure of eet."

Harry and Hermione exchanged a look. She was on the verge of tears again.

After that, everyone dropped the topic, and Mrs Granger let Mrs Weasley hold Rose. They had given her back to Hermione when the door of the room opened and one of the healers walked in, holding a glass with a green, steaming potion in it.

"I have to take her with me so we can check her and you can rest," the healer told Hermione. "You must drink this potion and rest for a few hours, and when you wake up, both of you can go home."

"Take her with you?" Hermione asked, and Harry realised the idea frightened her.

"Yes, for a series of common tests."

Hermione looked at Harry, panic evident in her eyes, and he understood at once. Sbalkal had told them that his interest in Rose hadn't vanished, and now Hermione feared that, if she let the baby out of her sight, she might never see her again.

"I'll go with her," Harry told her. "Don't worry, Hermione. And we'll keep watch until you're awake. Nothing will happen to her, I promise."

Hermione nodded, a bit more relaxed.

"Thanks, Harry."

"We're not going to do anything to her," the healer said, a bit offended.

"This child has been threatened by the criminal known as Sbalkal," Harry told her, using his most Auror-ish and authoritarian voice. "She won't be out of my sight, even for just a second."

"All right, then," the healer said, and Hermione gave her Rose, though a bit reluctantly.

Mrs Weasley took the potion and gave it to her.

"Drink it, dear. You'll feel better when you wake up."

Hermione nodded, and with a last glance at Rose and Harry, drank the potion. A moment later, she was asleep. Mrs Weasley took the empty glass and put it on the bedside table. Then she caressed her face.

Harry turned round and followed the healer out of the room, but, before closing the door, he looked at his best friend one last time.

_Damn, Ron, wherever you are, come back! I need you. Your family needs you ... Please, come back._

— — o — —

The strong, cold wind ruffled his hair as he floated, weightless, hundreds of feet above the sea. Five hundred yards ahead of him, wild, strong waves beat against a high cliff that constituted the border of a small island. And on the top of the island, Azkaban rose, impressive and scary.

The stone walls were dotted with dozens of small windows that barely let the inmates see the world outside the fortress. Anyway, it usually wasn't a pleasant view; though Dementors no longer guarded the prison; the charms cast upon the building caused this part of the North Sea to be drowned in fog whenever a storm was not battering the little island.

Sbalkal breathed in the cold, ozone-smelling air. He felt wonderful. It was true that, despite having regained his lost piece of soul, he wasn't as powerful as he once had been. A great part of his old power was lost forever. That upset him a bit. It was a fact, but he knew his old power wasn't essential. Having a complete soul, his powers grew over time, so, sooner or later, he would be as powerful as he once was and even more. And once he was the only one, then there would not be limits. He shuddered with delight at the thought.

Focusing on the task at hand, he concentrated on the people imprisoned there. Death Eaters, common criminals, and even two of his men, Marvin Gealt and Arnold Cottage. Out of all those who once had served him, they were the only survivors. Pucey and Scholdt had died the day he had recovered the Archway, and the others had been killed by him. How many of Azkaban's prisoners would be of use to him? He examined their minds and souls, making an initial list, and then began to descend towards the island. He landed softly on the rough path that led to the main entrance of the prison, moved closer to it, and knocked.

A moment later, the door opened and he found himself facing three wands pointing directly at his chest.

"Who are you?" The oldest of the three men facing him asked rudely. "What are you doing here? No visits were planned for today!"

"Who am I? Have you already forgotten my face?" Sbalkal asked.

The three men stared at him for a moment, and Sbalkal could see the realisation forming in their minds. Their eyes became the size of saucers; their mouths opened wide; and a sudden fear filled them, causing their blood to run cold and their bodies to tremble.

"DON'T MOVE!" the oldest of them, who Sbalkal knew was called Wilhelm Flag, ordered.

"What — what do you want?" another of them, who was named Arnold Greenwood, asked.

"I've come ... for a visit. Missed the place," he added with a smile.

"Don't move!" Flag ordered again. He looked at the only one of the three men who hadn't spoken yet. "Argley, call the Ministry."

"That won't be necessary, Tom," Sbalkal said softly, addressing the same man.

"Don't listen to him and do as you've been told!"

Sbalkal gave another step forwards, and the three men retreated at once.

"DON'T MOVE!" Flag yelled. His eyes, full of panic but determined, were fixed on him. He was sweating. "Don't move or — or —!"

"Or what?" finished Sbalkal, arching an eyebrow. "What will you do, poor man? You're just a mere wizard; what can you do against me?"

Flag frowned, and Sbalkal knew what he was going to do at the same time he made his decision.

"_Stupefy!_"

The streak of red light burst from the tip of the wand and soared through the air, straight towards Sbalkal's chest. However, before it had touched him, he used his power and his will; the spell froze in the air and, after a fraction of a second, formed a small, red sphere.

Sbalkal raised one hand, opened it and cupped the ball, which stayed floating between his fingers. Then he closed his hand and the small ball of magic vanished like smoke.

He smiled, and the three men, astounded and utterly scared, gave another step backwards, almost unconsciously.

"You've had very bad luck today," Sbalkal told them. He fixed his eyes on Flag, and pushed. The man was suddenly blast backwards, driven by a sudden burst of kinetic energy. He hit a wall behind him, crushing his bones, and then crumpled to the floor, turned into a bloody mass, barely recognisable as human.

The alarm of the prison went off.

Scared by what they had witnessed, the other two men tried to attack him, but their words ('_Sanguinat' _and '_Suffocate_') didn't have any effect. Sbalkal had blocked their magic. He focused on Tom Argley's heart, which was beating furiously, and it stopped. The man opened his eyes wide in surprise, put one hand on his chest, and then dropped to the floor. Terrified, Arnold Greenwood moved backwards until he bumped into the wall, his face filled with panic.

"Please ... please, I have a son and a wife," he begged. "Please, don't kill me ..."

"You should be ashamed," Sbalkal said disdainfully. "Begging like a coward." Then he cocked his head, as in thought, and added, "It is true, though, that, when facing me, courage is equal to stupidity."

"Please ..." the man kept begging.

Sbalkal stared at him, at his head, inside of which was his brain. Every electrical function in it stopped at the same time, and the man fell haphazardly to the floor, not having noticed when he had died.

There were another three guards at the prison, that were patrolling the corridors, but now, having heard the alarm, they were running towards the main entrance, unaware that their three companions were already dead.

_Stupid fools. It would be better for you if you run away while you can._

He began to walk along the corridor that led towards the stairs. There were no cells on the ground floor, which was, by far, the warmest part of the prison; it was where the guards' quarters and administration offices were placed. Upstairs, however, things were different. It was much colder and darker.

Sbalkal was halfway to the stairs when two of the guards appeared on them. Seeing him, they raised their wands, but, before they had time to act, Sbalkal had thrown a little streak of energy towards them. There was a loud noise and the bodies of the guards fell to the floor, broken and bleeding. They were dead.

Not giving them a second glance, he kept walking and began to climb up the stairs. Currently on the third floor, the last guard was running down.

Sbalkal rose up in the air through the stairwell. The poor man didn't have time to react before receiving a strong blow on his face that sent him backwards towards the wall, bleeding profusely and out cold. Satisfied, Sbalkal landed on the second floor, and began to, slowly, walk along the corridor, focusing on the prisoners inside the cells. As he did so, he opened some of the doors and told the shocked men and women to go down and wait for him in the hall.

The last one to be released was Marvin Gealt, who was being held in a cell on the topmost floor of the prison.

"My lord," he said in evident surprise when the door opened and he saw Sbalkal in the doorway.

"Good afternoon, Marvin. It's time to go."

"But — the guards —"

"I took care of them."

"I am the only one here," Gealt said, as they walked back to the stairs. "Both Scholdt and Pucey died at the Ministry."

"I know. Cottage is here, too. But I've already released him." Marvin blinked a few times, not understanding. He hadn't met Cottage.

"So we are ready to fight the Ministry?" Gealt asked. "They're spreading lies about you. Harry Potter says you were a Mudblood. He was pretty angry; of course, he only wanted to throw dirt on you be—"

"My parents were Muggles, yes. Something of no importance, because, after all, I'm not a wizard."

Gealt stopped dead. "W-WHAT?" Sbalkal turned to look at him. "But you — you told us we would get rid of Mudbloods and Muggles, that we — we —"

"I told you what I needed you to hear. That's not important anymore. Your only mission is, and always has been, to serve me. Nothing else."

"I can't obey a Muggle."

Sbalkal fixed his eyes on his, and felt Gealt tremble in fear.

"Your opinion no longer matters." He turned round again and began to climb down the staircase. Gealt followed him, no longer in control of his own body, which was now responding to Sbalkal's commands. They descended the stairs in silence. As they neared the ground floor, they could hear the noise of people talking, but everyone fell silent when they reached the floor and the released prisoners saw him.

He walked through the crowd until he was near the door, Gealt still behind him, and then turned to face the twenty-four men and women he had chosen; they included Arnold Cottage and another twenty-three former Death Eaters and Snatchers.

"M-Master?" asked Arnold Cottage, looking at him in awe. "Is it you?"

"Hi, Arnold," Sbalkal said. Then he addressed the rest. "You're wondering who I am, how I did this, why, and what do I want." No one replied, too shocked and confused to speak. "My name is Sbalkal, and I am your new master. I released you because I require your assistance while I put the world under my control. I managed to release you because my power, intelligence and knowledge are the greatest you've ever seen. Compared to me, Lord Voldemort, whom most of you served, was nothing." The prisoners murmured disbelievingly, staring at him. They had been looking at him in awe, but now some of them were glaring at him through narrowed eyes.

"Maybe you don't believe me now, but you will very soon. But before that, let me say that I don't _really_ need you. You are useful, but not indispensable. And that being so, I won't hesitate to kill you if I've got to. Before you come with me, you must realise that there are no 'big ideals' behind this. I don't care about blood purity or those meaningless stupidities. You are here to serve me, and to do as you're told. Is that clear?"

"So ... you're telling us we will be just slaves to you?" Antonin Dolohov asked.

"Exactly. And don't get that offended. You are fools if you think you were more than that before. I'm giving you a choice, though: you can come, or you can stay here. But if you come, you must understand that I don't regard you in superior esteem than Muggles. As I told Marvin here," he tilted his head towards him, "my parents were Muggles."

"What?" Cottage asked, shocked.

"We don't serve Mudbloods!" Alecto Carrow spat. "We fought for our right to rule, endured prison for it, so we won't do that, no matter who you are!"

Sbalkal smiled, and, almost unconsciously, his audience gave a step back.

"Marvin here expressed the same concerns." He looked at him, and relinquished control of his body. "Have you changed your opinion, Marvin?"

Gealt, his eyes wide open in fear, looked at his master and the other prisoners alternatively.

"I — I —" he stammered. He wanted to say 'yes', but Sbalkal was not allowing him to. He would do a better job as an example than as a servant.

"I won't tolerate doubt when doing my bidding," Sbalkal said, and getting closer to the trembling man, drove his hand into his chest, making its way through the flesh as it was a knife through butter. He then clutched his heart and ripped it out before squashing it in his hand. Gealt let out a short scream of pain and surprise, and then fell to the floor, dead. Upon seeing this, the prisoners took another step back, utterly scared. "Anyone else have a problem with my parentage?"

No one dared to say anything.

"Good, because it is time for us to get going." He could have just taken them all out of the prison, but he wanted to show them his power and, after having recovered it, he desired nothing more than to use and feel it again. So he turned round, and a big portion of the front wall broke apart from the rest and moved until it was floating flatly a few feet away from the building, that now had a great hole in its façade. "Get onto the wall," he ordered.

Still in awe, the freed men and women walked towards the wall and, hesitantly, as if they feared it would fall, they jumped onto it. The portion of the wall didn't move an inch.

When all of them were on, Sbalkal got onto it as well, and then the wall rose up in the air, making his new army gasp in fear and surprise. Higher and higher it rose, getting away from the prison at the same time. There were still dozens of people inside, people Sbalkal knew wouldn't serve his purposes. When they were far enough, the wall stopped in mid-air.

"This," he said loudly, so the others could hear him above the noise of the wind, "is my first strike against the Ministry and all those who think they have authority upon me."

He lifted his left hand, putting it flat-up, and a small, but very bright ball of light appeared above it. There was a great amount of concentrated energy contained in the ball due to his power and the force of his will.

And then, slowly, the ball began to move, and, across the air, it flew towards Azkaban, moving away from them until no one could see it and only Sbalkal could feel its existence and control it.

The ball entered the fortress through the hole where the wall had been, and hit the floor of the hall.

There was a colossal explosion, an incredibly bright flash of light, and, from bottom to top, the entire fortress blew up into thousands of pieces of rubble that flew in all directions and fell into the sea like stone rain. Where Azkaban had been, there was just a deep hole, and in the space previously occupied by the building there was now an immense column of dark smoke that was slowly rising up in the air. The shockwave caused by the explosion provoked enormous waves on the surface of the sea, and would have caused the freed prisoners to fall from the wall, had not Sbalkal's power prevented it.

"Merlin!" Thorfinn Rowle yelled behind him, an exclamation that was echoed by many others. "That ... that was —"

"Impressive. Awesome," McNair finished.

Sbalkal smiled. Ah, how good it felt to have such power again!

"Time to go," he said, and the wall — and the people on it — disappeared.

* * *

_If you hoped to know what happened to Ron, to see him here ... Sorry._

_Next chapter, around Thursday or Friday! See you!_


	18. You've Been Warned

_I know all of you were surprised, and disappointed, because Ron wasn't there when Rose was born ... but that's how things are. And though I understand you want him back, I'm surprised about how few of you have commented about Sbalkal, his power, and his part in Voldemort's life._

_Anyway, chapter two. Thanks to __**Kathy**__ again, especially for her useful information about breastfeeding._

_I told you there would be five different POVs in this story. We've already covered four (Hermione, Ron, Sbalkal and Harry). Here I introduce the last one. I really want to know your thoughts about him and the scene in which he appears._

* * *

**PART II**

**TALES OF OLD SECRETS**

_**Chapter 18**_

**You've been warned**

* * *

_1__st__ November, 1981_

Albus Dumbledore sighed as he looked around him, at the wreckage now that was once the beautiful and warm house. The fire had been extinguished by the firemen, and the Ministry had already taken care of them and the rest of the people in the village that had witnessed a house that hadn't been there in the morning burn and crumble. He was now standing in the room where little Harry Potter had slept, his cot at the centre of a zone that had been barely damaged by the rebounding curse that had destroyed the house and stopped Lord Voldemort.

_Protected by the love of his mother_, he thought sadly.

It was, at the same time, a wonderful and terrible thing. Lily Potter's body had been found, dead, just in front of Harry's cot. That didn't mean much for the rest of the world, but for him, who knew that someone had asked Voldemort not to kill her, meant everything, especially taking into account the miracle that was Harry's survival.

_Lily and James, dead._

Finally, it had happened. They had been betrayed by their best friend, and Dumbledore couldn't help but feel guilty about it. He should have been the one to act as their secret keeper, but, when Sirius had offered, he had accepted, rather gladly, because the truth was that he didn't want to come here, to this village, a village that had changed so much, but held so many bad memories for him. This was where he had misjudged someone so much it had cost him the life of his sister, and now, it seemed, something alike had happened once more. And yet, despite all the evidence, he still found it hard to believe that Sirius would have betrayed Lily and James. He had trusted him, he seemed so different from the rest of his family ... but, what other explanation was there? _He_ had been their secret keeper and, as such, he was the only one that could have told Voldemort where to find the Potters.

Nobody had found Voldemort's body or his wand, and that worried him. Of course, he had his theories, and recalled, for a while, all the things he had learned about him, about his mysterious transformation and secret travels and doings. And with all that in mind, he was sure Lord Voldemort wasn't dead.

He moved towards the broken wall from which the sky could be seen. Dawn was almost breaking. He should go back to Hogwarts and arrange everything for when Hagrid took little Harry to his aunt and uncle. That hadn't been an easy decision, and yet, he was convinced it was for the best. He felt responsible for the child, and that responsibility meant that he should look after not only the wellbeing of his physical body, but also the wellbeing of his soul and mind. He was sure that being part of the Wizarding world would not be good for him as a child, famous as he would be, and, besides, there wasn't a place where he would be as safe as with his mother's sister.

He was going to Disapparate when he saw the figure standing in the street, next to the gate. Even in the darkness, he could see that he or she was covered by a black cloak and a hood. And was staring directly at the house, so in no way could they be a Muggle.

Maybe a Death Eater? Dumbledore frowned and took out his wand. And right then, the mysterious person raised their head. Though the hood covered his face completely, too, Dumbledore was sure he was looking at him.

He stood still, almost frozen, for a moment. He felt the oddest feeling, a sensation that was telling him the person was not dangerous.

Determined to discover who they were, he climbed down the stairs and exited the wrecked house before stopping.

"May I ask your name?"

The gate opened, and the cloaked figure walked into the still beautiful garden. He seemed a bit unsteady, and was moving with difficulty, as if he was wounded, extremely tired, or a very old person.

"Are you alright?" Dumbledore asked, not forgetting his manners despite his curiosity.

The person stopped and looked at the house. Dumbledore wondered how they could see anything.

"I am," the person said, in a ragged and weary voice. The voice of a young man, it seemed. "But the last days have been a bit rough."

"May I ask who you are?"

"A friend, Professor," the man answered, his attention still on the house, or so it seemed.

"You know me, then?"

"Who doesn't know you?" the man replied, this time turning his head to look at him. "I must say it's a pleasure to meet you."

"So you know who I am, but I haven't got the same pleasure regarding you."

"And you won't, for I don't intend to tell you my name."

"Why not? I would like to know to whom I'm talking."

"It is better if you don't know that."

"Why?"

"It's better if you don't know that, either."

Dumbledore observed him for a few moments, completely puzzled, and then asked, "What are you doing here?"

"They're dead," the man said, ignoring Dumbledore's question. There was an obvious sadness in his voice. "James and Lily Potter are dead."

"Yes, they are."

"I didn't save them."

"To save them was, I think, beyond anyone's means," Dumbledore said, more and more intrigued about the mysterious man.

"Not mine," the man replied. "Not mine. But I was too weak. I am still too weak, but I had to come." He stayed silent for a few seconds, and then spoke again. "Though this is the way things must be, I think, and I know how terrible this sounds."

"Yes," Dumbledore said, sadly. "Thanks to their sacrifice, Lord Voldemort is gone. The war is over."

"This is just a truce," the cloaked man replied. "You know it, Professor. Lord Voldemort will be back someday, because he's not gone."

"How do you know he's not dead?"

"I know a lot of things, Professor. A lot of things ..." There was no joy in those words, but great sadness, and Dumbledore, once more, wondered who he was and what secrets he was concealing. But, after all, who was he to judge others for keeping secrets?

"Now I've got to go," the man continued. "I should be resting, but I had to come." He sighed. "Take care of Harry Potter, will you?"

"Will we see each other? You seem to know things, and knowledge is always valuable. You could be of help if Lord Voldemort — as we fear — comes back."

"I reckon we'll meet again, yes," the man said. "And be sure that I'll help ... though maybe not in the way you'd expect. Goodbye, Professor," he added, and then soundlessly he vanished, leaving Dumbledore bewildered and full of questions, which was something very, very unusual for him.

— — o — —

Hermione woke up slowly, feeling still a bit sleepy, but well rested. For a moment, she just lay there, on the soft bed, not knowing where she was, until the memory of what had happened before she fell asleep flooded her, and she jumped to a sitting position.

"Rose!" she shrieked.

"Calm down, Hermione. She's all right," said Ginny, who was sitting to her right, next to a cot where Rose seemed to be sleeping. She looked very serious.

"Where is Harry?"

Ginny sighed. "He had to go back to the Ministry."

"Oh."

Hermione couldn't help but feel a bit betrayed. Hadn't he promised he would be there, watching her child while she couldn't? Harry was the most important person in her life after Ron and Rose, and now that Ron was no longer there for her, she had been relying a lot on him. She was going to ask why he had left, or what time it was, when the door opened and Neville, Dean and Parvati walked in.

"We heard Hermione yelling," Neville said, calming down once he realised she was alright. He smiled at her. "Congratulations, Hermione. You've got a beautiful daughter."

"Yes," Parvati nodded, looking at her sympathetically.

"Congratulations," added Dean.

"Thank you," said Hermione, rather bewildered by their presence. "But — what —?"

"The others went home to sleep. You've been out cold for twelve hours," explained Ginny. "They are here because Harry called them. He promised Rose would be protected, Hermione, and he never breaks such promises."

"I know," Hermione said, feeling a bit ashamed. "But — it is Saturday, why did he have to go to the Ministry?"

Ginny exchanged a look with the other three that make Hermione worry.

"Azkaban was attacked last evening."

"WHAT? Attacked? How? Why?"

"Completely destroyed," Neville said. "Even the Muggles were aware of the explosion. They are on alert because they think it was one of those cosmic bombs."

"Atomic," corrected Hermione automatically. "They're called atomic bombs. But — the prisoners, the guards ...?"

Ginny shook her head. "No one knows. Apparently, the explosion was very, very powerful. The island where it was is completely devastated."

"Is — is Sbalkal behind this?"

"We don't know," Dean answered.

They felt silent. Azkaban, destroyed. Sixty-four prisoners were being currently held there. Some were very dangerous Death Eaters and Snatchers, but others were there for minor crimes. And the guards ...

Hermione bit her bottom lip. The Muggles thought it had been an atomic explosion. There was no spell or curse, as far as she knew, that could cause such a powerful explosion, especially taking into account how many spells and charms protected the fortress.

She felt frightened at the idea that Sbalkal could be acting again. His image was linked forever, in her mind, to her suffering, to fear for Rose, and to Ron's disappearance. In just a few months, he had marked her much more than Voldemort and his followers had been able to during the years they had fought against them.

In the cot, Rose let out a cry. Ginny looked at her and smiled.

"I think she's hungry," she commented. "She was fed for the last time a few hours ago."

"Can you bring her here?" Hermione asked her.

Ginny nodded, took the little child from the cot delicately and carried her to Hermione's open arms. And as it had happened the day before, the moment the tiny girl was secure in her arms, she felt her heart swarm with love for her. This little being had grown inside her and was the result of her and Ron's love. If she had been ready to kill for her when she was just a little lump in her belly, what wouldn't she do now? And if Ron — oh, how much it hurt to think about him — was not going to be with them, she would have to be extra strong, because this little child was her life now.

"I love you, Rosie," she said, touching the girl's little nose. "Are you hungry?"

"We'll leave you alone, then," said Neville. "We'll be outside, okay?"

Hermione nodded at them. "Thank you. Seriously, this — this means a lot."

Hermione undid a few buttons of the hospital gown she was wearing and took out her left breast. The child gave a few unsuccessful attempts, and Hermione realised this wasn't going to be easy, despite having already watched Ginny and having read everything on the subject.

"Let me help you," offered Ginny, sitting on the bed.

With a few directions for Ginny, Hermione managed to get it going. The first attempts were a bit painful, but after a few minutes it got better, and Hermione could finally marvel at the feeling and enjoy it. She watched her, completely enthralled by the image. The feeling of the girl's little mouth on her was so different from Ron's, and, though it wasn't exactly pleasurable, it was equally exhilarating, and in that moment, she understood like never before the wonders of life, and why witches and wizards felt that their magic shouldn't interfere with the magic of bringing a life into this world.

"It feels incredible, doesn't it?" she heard Ginny say. "I know the first times are hard, but still ..."

"Yes," Hermione nodded. "It's ... magical."

"Seeing you makes me want time to pass quickly so I can have the new baby here with me," Ginny added, sitting on the border of Hermione's bed and stroking her now rather large belly.

Hermione looked at her. "I suppose. This is really wonderful. I can't imagine what it would feel like if — if Ron were here, with me," she said, and felt tears welling up in her eyes and making her eyesight blurry. "I'm s-sorry," she added quickly, brushing her eyes with her right hand. "It's — it's just that —"

Ginny put a hand over her arm. "I know, Hermione."

"This is so hard, Ginny. We were happy, very happy. And then, this — this _fucking _mess with Sbalkal. And now — now Ron's gone, and I don't know where he is, or whether he's all right, or why he left me without an explanation." She sniffled loudly, feeling the tears run down her cheeks. "I want to believe that he had a good reason for leaving. I — I try to understand, but I just can't get it. I repeat in my mind that he loves me, but then this horrible part of my mind tells me that maybe he doesn't, that _if he did_, he would be here with me, and — and —"

"I know," Ginny repeated, obviously not knowing what else to say.

"And then I feel so guilty, for thinking that when maybe he saw something during that attack he suffered, and maybe he's out there, a-alone, maybe in danger, trying to p-p-protect us, while I'm h-here, warm a-and well-cared."

"You don't have to feel guilty, Hermione. What you're enduring —"

"I just want him back, Ginny, with Rose and me. Harry was so right, when he told Lupin, all those years ago, that parents should never have to leave their children. Together is how we're stronger, not on our own. He promised me he wouldn't leave me again. _He promised_."

Ginny didn't say anything, but Hermione kept talking. She had been so silent these past months, bottling it up inside her, and now she felt she needed to pour it all out.

"It was the night we made love for the first time."

Hermione had already told Ginny part of this — not in detail of course. For starters, she wasn't one to talk freely about her sex life, and besides, Ginny was Ron's sister. It had happened the weekend before the start of her seventh year at Hogwarts. They had gone to her parents' where they had shared a bed, something Hermione had never mentioned at The Burrow, and neither had Ron. They had made love for the first time that night, and though it hadn't been _great_ — it had been awkward at first, and uncomfortable, and then it had been over very quickly — she had felt like she was on cloud nine, sharing a bed with Ron, sharing that with him, feeling him inside her and their skin touching. And then they had started talking, and the conversation had gone on for hours. They had confessed like never before, baring their souls to each other, and, at some point, Ron had told her the truth about the locket, and then had confessed to her that leaving her and Harry during the hunt was his deepest regret, followed by Lavender Brown and not asking her to the Yule Ball in time and properly. She had embraced him more tightly, and then he had said that, now that he came to think of it, his biggest regrets had to do with disappointing his best friends, because the next one on the list was not having believed Harry in fourth year as she had. And then he had stared into her eyes, and had promised her that never, ever, under any circumstance, would he leave her again. And she, bursting with love for him, had kissed him passionately and they had made love for the second time, which had been way better than the first ...

That memory had been, for years, one of her most cherished ones. But now, thinking about that, she only felt pain. It hurt to think about Ron. It hurt too much.

"We talked about so many things that night, and confessed so many secrets. He told me the truth about the locket and then, staring into my eyes, he said that he would never leave me again. _He promised_."

"The truth about the locket?" Ginny asked, not understanding.

"Well, I suppose Harry didn't tell you when he told you what happened during that year, but well, _something_ happened when Ron destroyed the locket. I won't tell you what, that's for Ron to tell if — if he —" Hermione let out a sob, unable to continue.

They fell silent, just watching Rose. Minutes later, when the child finished eating, Hermione covered herself up again and caressed her daughter's face. She let out a loud burp. Hermione let out a laugh, despite her tears, and then wiped them off.

"I should get ready," she commented. "I want to go home."

"Okay, I'll talk to the healers," said Ginny, getting to her feet. "But I've got to tell Harry first. He made me swear I'd tell him. Then we can go."

"Ginny, wait."

The redhead girl turned round and looked at her friend.

"What?"

"I'm not going to go to yours and Harry's."

"WHAT?" Ginny yelled, shocked. "Why? Surely, you are not thinking of going to your house, on your own. Not with that maniac out there."

"No, I'm thinking about going to my parents'. You've been too good to me, Ginny, both of you. But you'll give birth in a few months, and you've got James to take care of. I can't be a nuisance to you anymore."

"You're not a nuisance."

"Thank you, but —"

"Hermione, your parents are Muggles, and they both work. If you don't want to stay with us, go to The Burrow. Mum can watch Rose when you go back to work. She'll be rather happy about that."

"The Burrow, without Ron ... I don't know if I can face the memories, Ginny. And I need to be strong for my daughter."

"Then think about her! What if that monster decides to go after you while you're at your parents', alone?"

"After what we saw that day at the Ministry, I don't think it matters whether I am alone or not," Hermione said gloomily. She shivered. The idea of someone taking Rose from her was terrifying and unbearable.

_Only over my dead body_, she thought.

"Hermione, _please_ ..."

Hermione looked at Rose, who was almost asleep, despite all the noise they were making. Ginny was right. She was being unreasonable, and that was not her. It didn't matter how much she loved Ron or her relationship with him; none of that was the most important thing now: that position belonged to the tiny person sleeping in her arms. She would go to The Burrow, and if the memories became too much, she would cry alone, and then would put a good and happy face for Rose, because that was what the little girl deserved. She was a strong woman, and would act as one, never mind how hard that would be.

"Okay, Ginny, you win."

"Good," said Ginny, satisfied. "I'll send a message to Mum and Dad. Your parents slept at The Burrow, too, so they could come together. Maybe they're on their way here right now."

Ginny left the room. Ten minutes later, the healers had told her that she could leave whenever she wanted, and Mrs Weasley, Bill, George, Angelina and her parents had arrived, ready to take her to The Burrow. Mr Weasley and Percy were at the Ministry, and Fleur was at The Burrow, watching the kids with Audrey.

"I think you're doing the right thing coming to The Burrow, dear," Mrs Weasley told her while she changed her clothes. "What with everything that is happening, it is the place we can make safer."

"Sbalkal seems to be rather powerful," Bill added, "so we've been thinking about casting a Fidelius Charm on The Burrow once more. That charm is unbreakable."

"But that is a lot of trouble!" protested Hermione.

"There's nothing that is a lot of trouble when the life of any member of our family is at stake," replied Mrs Weasley.

"Don't be stubborn, Hermione. Please," her mother begged.

"Alright," Hermione accepted.

"Whenever there are few people at The Burrow, we'll be there," interjected Neville. "We'll do anything to protect your child."

Hermione felt a wonderful warmth spread throughout her body at his words. She had amazing friends and family.

"Thanks. To all of you."

Neville and Dean nodded, and Parvati hugged her. Then she looked fondly at the baby. "See you, Hermione," she said, and the three of them left.

The family headed for The Burrow through the Floo Network, and, once there, they began to arrange everything. Hermione didn't want to use Ron's room, but she didn't need to say it, because Mrs Weasley said that she would be using Fred and George's old room, because it was bigger, so she would have room for Rose's cot.

Once everything was settled, and Rose was asleep on her cot, Mrs Weasley taught Hermione a charm so she would be aware if the girl woke up, and everyone headed for the kitchen, where Fleur was preparing tea. She smiled at Hermione when she saw her.

When the tea was served, everyone began to talk, trying to look cheerful and happy. Hermione, however, didn't bother, and simply sipped her tea, watching her family, and, especially, her parents.

She couldn't help it, was dead worry about them once more. The talk she had had with Ginny had reminded her that not long ago they had been living here, too, because of Sbalkal's threat. And now, Sbalkal was acting again, and, apparently, was even more dangerous than before. If he really wanted Rose, wouldn't he go after her parents?

In Hermione's mind, they weren't safe anymore at home.

But what could she do? Suggest for them to move back to The Burrow? Surely, they had lived here before, and even slept over last night. But, despite how much her parents loved the Weasleys and Ron, she would be delusional to think that Ron's disappearance had not affected them. It wasn't that they blamed the Weasleys, but it was true that there was some tension there. And yet, what importance did that have when compared to surviving?

"You're too quiet," Ginny said to her.

Hermione shrugged and drank the rest of her tea. "Just thinking."

"Ron?" Ginny said the word in a lower voice, almost as if she feared what the simple mention of her brother could cause.

Hermione shook her head.

"Sbalkal's out there; you said that yourself. And my parents ..."

"Oh," said Ginny, nodding. "They can move back here."

"Things are not as simple as before, Ginny," Hermione replied.

Ginny didn't say anything. Hermione looked out of the window, and noticed that it was a nice summer day outside ...

"I'm going outside for a walk," she declared, getting to her feet.

Everyone shut up and stared at her.

"Do you want company?" Ginny asked her.

"No. I — I want to be alone for a while."

"Don't go far, Hermione," Bill warned her.

"I won't, don't worry."

Hermione left the kitchen, and went out. The moment she found herself alone, with the sun warming her body and the soft breeze ruffling her hair, she felt a bit better. She began to walk, very slowly, watching, without really seeing, the gnomes sticking out their little heads from the ground.

_I am a mother_, she thought. _I've got a daughter_.

She should be happy. In fact, she should be the happiest she had ever been. Since the moment she had found out she was pregnant, she had awaited this moment, the moment when she would have the little child in her arms.

The problem was that, in all those fantasies, in all those dreams, Ron was there, with her. In all those fantasies, they were a couple in love, with normal problems and worries. In none of them had she pictured herself alone, living in a world under threat, especially a threat that affected her daughter so closely.

She felt the sudden desire to cry, but fought back the tears. She _was not_ going to cry. She was not alone. She had Rose. Rose was her world, and, as she had her, she would be happy. _She had to be._

She kept walking, thinking about everything that had happened over the past months, for an hour — or what felt like an hour. And despite her efforts to avoid it, her thoughts frequently went to Ron.

A sudden feeling inside her drew her attention. Rose was awake. Checking her watch, she realised more than two hours had passed since the last time the child had been feed. Surely she was hungry again, so she headed for the house.

No one told her anything when she walked in, and she didn't stop, but went straight to the stairs and to her room.

She was surprised to find her mother there, with the little girl in her arms and a smile on her face. She looked up when she heard Hermione enter the room.

"She just woke up," her mother informed her.

"I know. I felt it."

"Of course," her mother nodded. "Magic makes some things easier. That would have been useful when you were a baby, as you were, I have to say, insufferable." Hermione stared at her mother, surprised. "Oh, yes," her mother added, nodding and grinning fondly. "Some days we thought we'd die from lack of sleep, your father and I." She looked back at Rose. "Rose, on the other hand, seems like a very calm baby. Like Ron, from what Molly told me." There was some edge to her voice.

Hermione didn't say anything, and just took Rose in her arms. And again, having her there, she felt those mixed feelings: sadness for Ron's absence, and an immense happiness for having her child with her. The little girl began to move her head, so Hermione began to feed her.

Both mother and daughter stayed in silence for a few minutes, just watching Rose suck lightly, until her mother said, her tone nostalgic, "Yesterday you were leaving home to go to a new school, and now you have a daughter in your arms."

"Oh, Mum, that was almost fifteen years ago!"

Her mother let out a sad chuckle. "You'll see how quickly time goes by."

Silence fell once more over the room, the only noises the ones Rose made. After a few minutes, she made a pause, and Hermione moved her to make her burp, the way she had seen Fleur and Ginny do. Then, she put her back on her breast and the girl began to eat once more.

"You're doing very well," her mother commented. "I'm sure you've read everything about babies, haven't you?"

"Yes, of course," said Hermione. "I wanted to be ready. And Ginny helped me before, at the hospital."

"Can you use magic to make things easy during the first months?" her mother asked. "I mean, like making them fall asleep if they give you too much trouble?"

"No, you can't put a Sleeping charm on a baby," responded Hermione. "It's too dangerous. But in a few weeks I'll be able to use magic to extract my own milk so I don't have to be present every time she needs to eat."

"Ah, that's wonderful."

Five more minutes of silence, and then Hermione looked up at her mother.

"Are you staying for lunch?"

"I don't think so."

"I was thinking about going back home with you and Dad," Hermione confessed. "But now —"

"And we'd love to have you there, honey," her mother said. "But I think you're doing the right thing staying here. You'll have more people to help you, and this place is better protected."

"Speaking of that —"

There was a sudden disturbance downstairs, and Hermione shut up to listen. It seemed that someone had arrived. Harry, maybe?

Rose stopped eating. Hermione made her burp again and then, seeing as she was no longer hungry, gave the child to her mother, who put her on the cot while she cleaned and covered herself.

"Mum, I feel uneasy about you going home."

"Hermione —"

"I'll worry if you are there. Enchantments won't protect you from him, Mum. I saw what he can do."

"Hermione, our house is there. We've already left twice. We don't know what happened or whether that ... man is behind this. We're going to Bradford and —"

"No one is going to Bradford," said Harry, walking into the room forcefully and startling both Hermione and her mother.

"Harry! You'll disturb Rose!"

"Sorry, Hermione," he said apologetically, glancing at the cot. But a moment later he regained the serious and grave look and stared at Hermione's mother. "You aren't going to your house. I can't let that happen."

"Why not?" she asked. "What's happened, Harry?"

Harry looked at Rose again, who was almost asleep once more. "Can you come down? Kingsley's here."

"Kingsley?" Hermione asked.

Harry nodded.

Hermione and her mother stood up and they followed Harry to the living room, where the rest of the Weasleys, Mr Weasley and Percy included, Hermione's father and Kingsley, were.

"Good morning, Hermione," Kingsley greeted her, forcing a smile upon his face. "Congratulations. I would have gone to see you, but —"

"Thanks, Kingsley," Hermione said, nodding. "Don't worry."

"Well, are you going to tell us what this is about?" George asked, his arms folded.

"We learned that the Muggles were on alert because their satellites — I don't know what exactly they are —"

"Machines that float in space around the Earth," explained Hermione's father. "They're used for communications, for weather forecasts — and for defence purposes."

"Well, those satellites detected a very powerful explosion where Azkaban is located. Muggles don't know about it — can't get near it, in fact — so we investigated it and discovered that the entire prison had been destroyed. There was still a great cloud of smoke floating over the island. What became of the prisoners or the guards, we have no clue.

"And then, this morning, when I walked into my office, I found something on my desk. This," he added, rummaging into the right pocket of his robes and extracting a ball than reminded Hermione of Neville's old remembrall.

"What is it?" George asked. "Who left it there?"

"Let the Minister talk," Percy scolded him.

"We don't know. It simply was there." Kingsley moved, put the ball on the mantelpiece, and then retreated.

A moment later, the ball began to glow. The rest of the room was suddenly in the darkness, as if the sun had died out. The fireplace and the wall it was attached to seemed to disappear, leaving just what seemed a bottomless void, and then, in the middle of the darkness, an image appeared, and everyone in the room, except for Kingsley, Mr Weasley, Harry and Percy, who obviously had seen this, retreated.

"Good morning, Minister," Sbalkal said. He was dressed in his usual black robes, and was sitting on a chair that resembled a throne, with the same air of greatness and superiority he had displayed during the trial. And yet, Hermione thought, there was something in him that made him look even more terrible, more menacing, and more powerful, and though this was obviously just a recorded image, Hermione felt downright scared.

"I say good morning, though, of course, you aren't having a very good morning, are you? Right now, you know about Azkaban. Probably you've already been there, so you, and those who accompanied you, have seen what I've done.

"Because yes, it was me. I went there, killed your guards, and then destroyed the prison. And no spell, or wizard, or charm was able to stop me; because nothing, _nothing_, can stop me now." He made a pause, and a cruel and smug smile appeared on his face. "I suppose you're wondering what happened to the prisoners ... Well, I made a little selection, and, before destroying the prison, took with me a few ... _friends_." As he said that, several figures appeared in the darkness behind the chair Sbalkal was sitting on, all of them dressed in black. Death Eaters, Snatchers and, Hermione realised, Arnold Cottage. A roar of disgust rose in the living room.

"Yes, twenty-four _friends_. The rest of the people were of no use to me and died in the prison." The figures behind him dissolved in the dark, and Sbalkal spoke once more. "Maybe you're thinking about pursuing me or about stopping me. Forget that. You can't stop me. It is my intention to subjugate this world, both Muggle and magical. And this time is not going to be like in the other war. This time, you've got no hope." And then he stood up, moved forwards and Hermione had the impression that he was looking directly at her.

"What's this?" Harry said, shocked. "This didn't happen when we saw it before!"

"Where is Ronald Weasley?" Sbalkal asked. "Where is he, war hero, Auror, destroyer of a Horcrux? Not even his wife knows his whereabouts, do you, Hermione? You hope he's okay, and yet, one part of you, secretly hopes I've got him, because that would explain why he wasn't with you while you were giving birth to your child."

Hermione was trembling with rage and fear. How could he know this? How was this possible?

"Well, I must say that no, I haven't got him. The last time I saw him was that day, in the court room." He smiled cruelly, but just a second later the grin vanished and he looked again menacing and deadly dangerous. "And now I talk to you, Hermione ... you're another war hero, the best of your year at Hogwarts ... and yet what can you do, now that you have been abandoned by your husband and have a newborn child to take care of? And you, Harry Potter ... You're no longer the Chosen One. You're nothing against me. The things you used against Voldemort won't serve you this time. You're doomed to lose; you cannot fight me, so surrender now and everything will be much easier. Resist, and I'll turn your lives into an absolute nightmare.

"You've been warned."

* * *

_Yes, still no Ron, though he's always in Hermione's thoughts._

_Tell me what you think! Next chapter, around Wednesday!_


	19. Dark Times

_First of all, for those who have doubts, yes, the cloaked stranger that talked to Dumbledore in last chapter is the same that saved Hermione in chapter 1. As you'll remember, in chapter 4 __**'Hogwarts'**__, Dumbledore told Hermione he had met him 24 years ago, and that they had met four times. We'll see, through these flashbacks, these four times._

_In this chapter, however, we switch to Sbalkal once more (did I told you how much I love writing him?), to follow the plan he set in motion in 1926._

_And I know, I know you all want to know about Ron ..._

_As always, __**Kathy **__revised this, so many, many thanks to her!_

* * *

**PART II**

**TALES OF OLD SECRETS**

_**Chapter 19**_

**Dark Times**

* * *

_26__th__ March, 1943_

It was half past nine, and the Hogwarts halls were silent. Invisible to all eyes, Sbalkal observed Tom Riddle, with his prefect badge perfectly placed on his chest, walk across the dark corridor; he seemed to be the only student that felt safe when the rest of the castle feared turning every corner.

Sbalkal smiled at this. The boy had proven to be everything he'd dreamed about. His instincts hadn't failed him that day, when he had felt his power while he was still in his mother's womb. It was true that there was still much to wait for and to do, but, so far, things were going rather well.

Killing his mother had been a wonderful idea. Without her, the boy had been able to develop his most sadistic instincts. He cared for nobody but for himself and his soul was black as a moonless night in a thick forest. Oh, he hadn't killed anyone yet, but that was close. The boy had released the basilisk that lived in the Chamber of Secrets multiple times, and someone was bound to die sooner or later. He knew it.

He looked at the boy, who, when nobody could see him, like now, walked across the halls as if he owned the place, his mind set on his own greatness, convinced of his destiny.

Sbalkal smiled at this. The boy was intelligent, yes, but was also a fool. But, of course, that was appropriate, even needed. He had to be a fool to do what he needed him to do.

Destiny. What the boy believed to be his destiny, was nothing but Sbalkal's doing. He had watched him for all his life, always in the shadows and always guiding him. The boy believed it had been fate that one of his roommates had lent him a book about Salazar Slytherin in his first week at Hogwarts, which had caused him to discover that they shared the ability of speaking in Parseltongue. The boy believed it had been his own skill and intelligence what had led him to find the secret entrance to the chamber, but it had been Sbalkal, whispering into his mind, who had showed him the way to the girls' bathroom on the second floor.

And tonight, he was here, again, to conduct him to another discovery.

The boy, seeking ever more power, ever more greatness, had already identified his more powerful enemy: death. He could beat any wizard or witch with a wand, or so he believed; he could kill or stop any creature, no matter how dark or dangerous it was. But no matter what he did, death was always in the horizon, getting closer and closer.

Immortality; that was his true goal. Death was his true enemy. And so he had begun to seek a way to dodge it, or better, to conquer it — a way to be sure that his achievements and his greatness would never perish or be forgotten. When he seized power over wizards, and had subjugated — or wiped out — Muggles and Mudbloods, it would be forever. He wasn't going to rule and create a new world only to die and be replaced by someone else. No, he would rule forever.

And that desire, that craving, suited Sbalkal's needs perfectly.

What he needed from Tom Riddle was something nobody had done ever before. To take his soul and devour it to mend and strengthen his own, even if only temporarily, so he could get back the Archway of Pyret, dominate his brain, and recover that part of himself that Ørsya, that bitch, had taken with her, maiming him.

He knew that Riddle's soul would not be enough, but it would give him power to make it easier to get others. But to get it, he needed a soul as corrupt as possible. He had tried to take souls before, and he had always failed. What he needed the first time was a soul weakened, a soul he could assimilate slowly.

And the best way to do so was piece by piece.

As he did whenever he could, Tom Riddle walked towards the Library and, checking no one was near, cast a Disillusionment Charm upon himself and went inside, unaware that someone was near him. Sbalkal, who could still see him perfectly, moved behind him, and leaned against the wall. He didn't need to go with him. He didn't need, after all, his eyes to see, or his ears to hear.

He felt Riddle looking in the Restricted Section, and then he focused on his mind.

Tom Riddle felt the sudden impulse to stop looking to the shelf he had been staring at, and moved deeper into the Restricted Section, barely looking at the books. He was feeling the same anticipation, the same feeling of rightness he had experienced when he had discovered the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.

His eyes roamed over one particular awful-looking set of books, and then focused on one of them.

_Secrets of the Darkest Art._

He stared at it for a few minutes, and then, slowly, took it from the shelf and examined it. It looked old, and seemed to be bound in leather. He smiled, and opened it.

Sbalkal smiled widely.

_Read, Tommy. Read and learn. Corrupt your soul as much as you can, and then rip it for me._

He took a step back, and vanished.

— — o — —

After having watched Sbalkal's message, things had gone into motion immediately. Bill and Mr Weasley had cast a _Fidelius_ Charm upon The Burrow, to protect it from Sbalkal or any of the criminals he had released. Harry, Mr Weasley and Percy had had to go back to the Ministry to take care of everything, like inform the families of the guards and the prisoners of what had happened. New 'Wanted' posters had been produced and delivered, and the Ministry had been put in maximum alert.

In the evening of that same day, Harry had talked to Neville and everyone else in the group they had formed in December, and had made sure Grimmauld Place was ready in case it had to be used as a safe house once more.

When the news of the escape and Sbalkal's actions had reached the public the day after, a wave of panic had spread. As a consequence, the board of governors had decided to shut down Hogwarts. It was the 18th of June, and exams had already taken place.

At The Burrow, the entire family had moved back to the house, this time even George and Angelina and Percy and Audrey. Enlargement Charms had been cast on the rooms so everyone could live there.

Nothing had happened during the first two weeks after Sbalkal's announcement. Time had gone by very quickly for Hermione, even though she was practically confined to the crowded house; something that, under normal circumstances, would have bored her to death. However, as feeding Rose took nearly all her time, she didn't really mind. She had become her world, her haven, and, though when she was with her was when she felt Ron's absence the most, it was, also, when she felt the happiest.

As July went on, though, things had started to change. People had begun to report sightings of the escaped prisoners. There hadn't been killings or disappearances, as far as the Ministry knew, but it was obvious that things had begun to move.

Things at the Ministry were on edge, with everyone working overtime. The International Confederation of Wizards had had to take care over the Muggles and their fear of a nuclear war, which hadn't been easy. News spread too quickly in the Muggle world nowadays, so the issue still wasn't solved.

But among the members of the family, Harry was the one Hermione was most worried about. Kingsley had named him interim Head of the Auror Office, and he was working as hard as he could. The Aurors had been slaughtered, and now there were fewer in number than the enemies. Harry was trying to accelerate the training of the new recruits, and Hermione was very glad that Neville had decided to help by joining them once more for the time being, as Hogwarts had closed. Harry had been happy and grateful for that, too. He had never said anything to her, probably to not upset her, but she knew that Harry felt much more discouraged due to not having Ron with him.

Hermione had the sensation, as time went on and the summer passed, that days were getting darker, as if the winter was already upon them. Sightings of Sbalkal's men had increased, not only in Britain, but in other countries, too. They seemed to be trying to get others to surrender to Sbalkal's will. Even Muggles were having those 'visits.' Some high level politicians had suddenly made strange and harsh decisions, and Harry feared that they were using the _Imperius_ Curse once more.

Hermione wondered, and so did Harry, where was Sbalkal and why hadn't he made an appearance. He had shown no fear and it was clear that his power was enormous, probably even greater than Voldemort's. So why wasn't he acting?

All this, and the increasing sensation of being held in a prison, was why Hermione had decided to go back to the Ministry. They needed her, and she had to help. This monster was after her child, or so he had said, and it was her duty as Rose's mother to try and stop him.

So on Harry's birthday, Monday, when Rose was a bit older than a month, she had started to work again, though only for four hours a day. Every morning, she just used the charm to extract her own milk and Mrs Weasley and Ginny — who was now very close to giving birth herself — took care of the little baby for her. It still amazed Hermione how much she had grown since her birth, and Ginny told her all the time how fortunate she was, because it was rare that Rose kept anyone awake at nights. She was a very quiet baby, as if she could sense that times were dark and everyone was tired, so she didn't want to disturb anyone. James, on the contrary, had been terrible, and Ginny never got tired of saying that she hoped her second child — another boy — was more like Rose and less like his brother.

On Friday, that very week, Hermione walked into the Department and headed for Harry's office. The evening before, Sbalkal's men had committed their first attack, and two men — Dolohov and McNair — had tried to get Pamwyck to work for them. Pamwyck had refused, and they had attacked him. Fortunately, Pamwyck was a rather good wizard, and had managed to flee, though not unscathed. He was still at St Mungo's.

Harry was alone. Over his desktop he had a pensieve, and, next to it, a collection of memories and evidence. He was reading some reports, deep in thought.

"Hey, Harry."

Harry raised his head, saw her and smiled feebly.

"Good morning, Hermione."

"What are you doing?" she asked, entering the cubicle and looking around. "Isn't Neville here?"

"He went to check on some people who confirm they saw the Carrows in Hogsmeade," Harry explained. "Probably rubbish. People are hysterical and no longer know what they do or don't see. I'm reading a few reports and watching some memories ... trying to make some sense of all this."

Hermione got closer to the pensieve and watched it closely. She then focused her gaze on the memories, and took one in her hands.

"Blevelty," she read.

"Yes," said Harry sadly.

Hermione felt a wave of sadness wash over her, too. Blevelty had committed treason, yes. But, with such a threat upon them, who wouldn't have done the same? And he hadn't fled. He had stayed that day, and had helped before being arrested ...

And now he was dead, because he had been in Azkaban when Sbalkal had blown up the prison. The Wizengamot had been sympathetic, sentencing him only to six months in Azkaban and house imprisonment for the rest of his life. His wand had been split in two. He had worked for Sbalkal, yes, but it wasn't as bad as everyone had believed at first. Blevelty had confessed, under Veritaserum (he had asked to be interrogated with it), that Sbalkal had only asked of him three things: to keep Ron and Harry away from the case for as long as possible; to bring Mathery and the others to the trial; and to make sure the Aurors were spread out over the Ministry to watch it. He hadn't passed him any information. He didn't deserve death.

"Where is he, Harry?" Hermione asked. "Why hasn't he showed himself yet? It's been more than a month since his threat."

"I don't know," answered Harry, putting the report he had been reading back on the stack. "Maybe he just enjoys knowing we're slowly going mad."

"Yeah, maybe," Hermione nodded. She looked at her own hands, and realised she had picked up the memory and was turning it between her fingers in a nervous gesture. "What does this contain?"

Harry looked at the vial before answering. "The memory of Blevelty's first encounter with Sbalkal."

"Can I watch it?"

"What for?" You already know what happened."

"So do you, and still, you bothered to get the memory. Maybe if I watch it ... When did you get it?"

"A month or so before the attack on Azkaban. I thought it would be useful."

"Have you already watched it?"

"No," Harry responded. "I've been too busy."

"Let's watch it together."

Harry nodded, and Hermione uncorked the vial and dropped the silvery substance into the pensieve, where it began to swirl. Harry stood up and took her hand in his, and, together, they put their heads into the vessel and, a moment later, were swallowed into it.

The grey and silvery fog surrounding them began to take shape, and they both found themselves in one of the hallways of St Mungo's. Two healers walked past them, engaged in conversation. Harry and Hermione looked around and saw Blevelty, who was walking towards them, slowly with a defeated air. This memory belonged to the time when his daughter had been between life and death.

Blevelty passed them and they followed him. He turned a corner and then went into one of the rooms. The sign on the door read, "STURGIS DWELLIS WARD".

"It's the ward for severely ill patients," Hermione told Harry.

The ward had only two beds occupied, both surrounded by thick curtains to protect the privacy of its occupants.

Blevelty moved towards the first of the beds, which was placed to the right, and parted the curtain. Harry and Hermione followed him.

Blevelty stopped dead, but not at the sight of her daughter, immobile on the bed, but because there was someone else sitting on one of the chairs.

Despite knowing what she was going to see, and that they were just in a memory, Hermione felt her blood run cold in her veins at the sight of Sbalkal, dressed in the same healers' robes in which she had seen him several times. Beside her, Harry clenched his fists.

"Who are you?" Blevelty asked Sbalkal. "What are you doing here? You're not Emily's healer and this is a private area."

Hermione fixed her eyes on Emily. When she had heard about the condition of Blevelty's daughter, she had felt so bad for her and her family. But now that she herself had a daughter, the whole ordeal had gained a new significance. Emily was absolutely motionless and her face was incredibly pale, except for the bags under her eyes. She looked like those undead people you could see in some Muggle films. For a second, she imagined Rose in the same situation and shuddered. She felt a new and stronger rush of sympathy towards Blevelty.

"My name is Aldus Adder," Sbalkal said.

"You're not Emily's healer," Blevelty repeated. "It's Healer Gerrick. My wife is about to arrive and she doesn't like anyone near her. And I share that opinion."

"I'm not what you could call a normal healer," Sbalkal said, and then looked at Emily without a trace of sympathy in his grey eyes. "Your daughter is going to die, Mr Blevelty."

Blevelty winced, and then glared at Sbalkal, rather furious.

"You don't know that!"

"Yes, I do," Sbalkal replied. "And so do you. This illness is devouring her, destroying her magic and her life. She has just a few weeks left."

"Shut up!" ordered Blevelty, trying not to yell. "Get out of here or I'll have you sacked!"

Sbalkal didn't seem affected by Blevelty's outburst. He just shifted on the chair and got even more comfortable.

"Are you familiar with Muggle literature and legends, Mr Blevelty?" he asked.

"What?"

"Have you heard of _Fausto_?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, and I'm not interested. If you don't leave right now, I'll call security and —"

"Shut up and sit down!" Sbalkal shouted, his face changing completely, his eyes gleaming with danger. And as if he had been hit by a spell, Blevelty dropped onto a chair. He looked down at himself, shocked by his own actions.

"If you love your daughter, I advise you to listen to me. Have you heard of _Fausto_?"

"No," Blevelty answered.

"He was a man who made a covenant with the Devil himself. In short, the Devil would give him everything he desired in exchange for his soul, and he accepted. Of course, you may think that he was rather stupid, a fool, for making such a deal with someone so untrustworthy. But I say that it is very easy to criticise him while sitting on a chair, comfortably reading the book. But what if you were in a very difficult situation? Tell me, Mr Blevelty: what would you give in exchange for your daughter's life?"

"I — I don't get what you —"

Sbalkal looked at Emily's face, and, a moment later, she began to cough. Blevelty, startled, jumped off the chair and bent over her.

"E-emily? Emily, can you hear me?"

Emily opened her eyes, blinked a few times and looked at her father's face.

"Daddy ...?" the girl said in a weak voice.

"Oh, Merlin! Oh, my beloved Emily!" he sobbed, embracing her against his chest and caressing her head softly and tenderly. "Oh, my sweetheart!"

"Where am I?" Emily asked against his chest. Blevelty, with his eyes wet with tears, moved a bit away from her to look at her face.

"In St Mungo's, honey. You've been very ill. I thought I was going to — to lose you, and now — this is a miracle. A miracle!"

Hermione noticed that her eyes were filled with tears. She looked at Sbalkal, who was still on the chair, watching the scene. His face didn't betray any emotion; it was as if he was made of stone. And Hermione felt a terrible, overwhelming surge of hate for him. How could he have done something like this?

"This is not a miracle," Sbalkal said, and Blevelty gave a start, as if he had forgotten he was there. "This is my doing."

"What?" Blevelty said, releasing his daughter so she could lie down once more, but without moving away from her. "What do you mean?"

"She's not cured," Sbalkal said. "This is merely an interlude, a pause, which I've made possible." His eyes moved from Blevelty's face to Emily's, and everyone else followed his gaze. Emily's eyes opened wide, her body arched slightly, and then she fell unconscious once more, her face losing quickly the little colour it had gained. It was as though she had never woken up at all.

"NO, NO! EMILY! Sweetheart, come back. _Please_, come b-back!" Blevelty sobbed, dropping to his knees and burying his head in his daughter's bed, his hands clutching hers.

Harry was pale, and Hermione felt about to cry. It was one thing to have heard this story, but to watch it ...

"Please, please, don't let her die," Blevelty begged. "Please, she's just an innocent child. If you can help her, why don't you do it?"

"That is not the question," Sbalkal responded. Blevelty raised his head and looked at him quizzically. "Some things are going to happen," Sbalkal continued. "Terrible things. At certain points, I shall ask you to do something for me. And what I'll ask will conflict with your principles and your beliefs. The question is: will you be able to do that in exchange for your daughter's life?"

Blevelty gaped at Sbalkal, trembling and with his eyes full of tears.

"I — I —"

"If you don't know what to do, just look at her," Sbalkal said. "Look at her pale face, listen to her weak breathing, and touch her cold skin."

Blevelty broke down completely.

"Yes!" he shouted, crying. "Yes, I'll do a-anything. I'll do anything, but please, _please_, save her. Save her."

For the first time, Sbalkal smiled. And Hermione couldn't help but feel that Sbalkal had known, all along, what the outcome of this would be.

"Bastard ... Fucking monster," Harry muttered furiously. "You had no right to play with a family this way. You had no right to play with the life of a child, with the feelings of a father ..."

"You've made the right decision," Sbalkal said, and stood up. "She'll become increasingly better during the next few days. It would be too strange if she just woke up completely healed. I'll contact you when I need you. And remember," he added in a warning tone, "fail to do what I ask, and she'll be back on that bed more quickly than she can utter 'Daddy.' Do you understand me?"

"Yes," Blevelty said, defeated. "Yes."

"Put a smile on your face, Ferdinand. Your family is going to be very happy very soon. Enjoy that."

Sbalkal left the secluded area, having broken a man who was completely honest until that moment.

"Do you wonder what you would have done had you been in his shoes?" Hermione asked when they were back in Harry's cubicle.

"I try not to," Harry answered sincerely.

"How?" asked Hermione. "How could he just sit there, watching that scene, without any sympathy? How?"

"I don't know," Harry responded.

They fell silent for a moment, both deep in their own thoughts, until Hermione spoke again.

"I don't understand how he does what he does. Emily just woke up, recovered, from an illness that has no cure. And a moment later, she was ill again."

"I'd like to know that, too. But well, he said he had caused her to be ill in the first place, didn't he?"

"Yeah," said Harry gloomily.

"I've got to go to my office," Hermione said after a few moments of silence. "See you later, okay?"

Harry nodded, and Hermione left. She had turned the corner to take the corridor that led to her office when she ran into Kingsley.

"Oh, Hermione! I was looking for you."

"Good morning, Kingsley," Hermione said. "Has something happened?"

"It has," Kingsley nodded. "But how's Rose? I haven't seen her since the last time I went to The Burrow, two weeks ago."

"Oh, she's growing day by day, I think. She's really an angel."

"I'm glad to hear that, of something good in these troubled times. Oh, and I have to thank you for being back at work. You could still be at home for a few more months."

"I was feeling a bit trapped," Hermione admitted. "I come just four hours a day, but it makes me feel better. Useful."

Kingsley nodded. "Can you come with me, then? I was going to talk to Harry. Do you know whether he's in his office?"

"He is," Hermione answered. "I've just seen him."

They headed for Harry's office, and he stared at them in surprise when he saw them walk in.

"Kingsley," Harry said. "What's happened?" he asked, concerned.

"You both know there have been reports of the escaped prisoners having contact with members of foreign Ministries, and with Muggle politicians, too. Things are a bit rocky in the Muggle world, what with the explosion in Azkaban, so close to Europe. Muggles have been on edge these past few years, fear of terrorists attacking with nuclear weapons increasing. We've prevented a crisis from growing, but we haven't managed to stop it completely. And now Sbalkal's men are working against us. We're a bit overwhelmed, if I am sincere. So I've proposed for an International Confederation of Wizards' meeting to take place, and soon."

"Where?" Harry asked.

"Here, in London. We need to adopt a common strategy. Sbalkal's no longer a menace to us, but to the entire world, Wizard and Muggle."

"I think that's a good idea," commented Hermione.

"Yes," agreed Harry. "And you want us to assist?"

"Yes," Kingsley nodded. "You both are very famous. You've fought him, and I trust you completely." He looked directly at Harry. "You'll be in charge of security."

"Okay," Harry accepted. "Though we're still in need of more people."

"The Auror Offices of other Ministries will collaborate," Kingsley said. "The Department of International Magical Cooperation will put you in contact with them."

"When are you planning to have this meeting?" Hermione asked.

"Next week. On Saturday, probably. We're running out of time."

"Another hectic week, then," commented Harry, sighing. "Well, it's okay. Better now than when Ginny gives birth to our son."

"I'm sorry to keep you apart from your family so many hours a day, Harry," Kingsley said apologetically, rubbing his eyes; he looked very, very tired, Hermione noticed. "But I've got to admit that I don't know what I'd do if we didn't have you in the Auror Office."

"You haven't got to apologise, Kingsley," said Harry. "We all do what we can to bring a better future for our children. It's just that I believed we had already done that." He sighed. "But I suppose Dumbledore was right. Evil can never be destroyed, just kept at bay, and to do so, one must fight, and fight, and fight again."

"So it seems," Kingsley said, nodding. "I've got to go now. See you later."

"Me too," Hermione added, and left just behind Kingsley.

She spent the rest of the morning doing her usual job and beginning to prepare things for the meeting. She even took some work to do home before leaving. Despite how much she had wanted to get out of The Burrow for some hours, the truth was that, after a few hours at the Ministry, she found herself missing Rose.

When she got home, Mrs Weasley was finishing preparing lunch with Ginny, who had Rose in her arms.

"She's just eaten," Ginny informed her with a smile. "I think she's about to fall asleep."

"Good," said Hermione, and could feel the smile forming on her face as she took the little girl in her arms carefully. "Hey, Rosie," she whispered lovingly. "Mummy missed you." She looked at the other two women. "I'm going to put her on her cot. I'll be back soon."

They nodded and Hermione left the kitchen. Once in her room, she rocked her a bit in her arms before putting her in the cot and casting the charm on her.

"I hope you've never got to go through what we had to," Hermione muttered to her. "I don't mind anything I've got to do, or endure, as long as you can live a happy life and never go through these dark times." Rose shifted a bit, already asleep.

"I just wish your Daddy was here, Rosie. You've got his hair colour and his eyes, and every time I look at you, I miss him. Very much." She kissed two fingers and then touched the baby's left cheek with them. "See you later, my little angel," she added, and left the room, closing the door behind her.

* * *

_Yeah, again no Ron ... though in a way, he's always present, in Hermione's thoughts.  
_

_I hope you liked the pensieve scene. It's one of my favourite scenes in the story. What do you think? Did Blevelty the right thing accepting the deal? What would you have done? Or maybe, like Hermione and Harry, you prefer not to think about that possibility ..._

_Next chapter, on Monday, because I won't be home in the weekend._


	20. Unstoppable

_Well, another chapter. Get ready and don't bite your nails too much._

_As always, many thanks to __**Kathy**__ for her help!_

* * *

**PART II**

**TALES OF OLD SECRETS**

_**Chapter 20**_

**Unstoppable**

* * *

_21st June, 1992_

Dumbledore descended from the Thestral he had used to travel to London. It was much slower than Apparating, but he was in no hurry and he always enjoyed a ride, especially on such a beautiful summer evening like this one.

He looked at the telephone-box that concealed the entrance to the Ministry. It was strange of Cornelius to summon him at such an hour, but, though he would never accept the position of Minister, he would never refuse to help. He hummed. Cornelius was a good Minister — well, maybe not a _good_ one, but one that wasn't bad — for peaceful times like the present, but he wasn't sure of how well he'd do in troubled times. He hoped such a time didn't come while he was still in the office. He didn't dare to wish that troubled times _never_ come, because he knew too well that, sooner or later, they did.

Making sure he was alone in the alley, he lifted the Disillusionment Charm he had placed upon himself, and turned round to look at the Thestral.

"You can fly around," he told him. Muggles couldn't, after all, see Thestrals, had they seen anyone die or not. "I'll summon you when I need you again."

Then, he turned round once more and began to walk towards the telephone box. He had almost reached it when he saw a shadow move suddenly from the corner of his eye. Much more quickly than one would expect from a man of his age, he turned to face it, his hand on his pocket, ready to grab his wand.

"You won't need it," the cloaked man said, and Dumbledore froze. It was the same man he had seen ten years ago, the night James and Lily Potter had died. In just a moment, he wondered where he had come from. He wasn't in the alleyway when he had landed, and he hadn't heard — or _felt_ — anyone Apparate. The fact that he could appear next to him so surprisingly made him feel a bit uneasy, although the man still transmitted the sensation that he was trustworthy and meant no harm.

"It's you," Dumbledore said. The man was wearing exactly the same attire than the last time he had seen him, so his identity was still a secret.

"It's me," the man confirmed. "It's been a long time, Professor, since that morning in Godric's Hollow."

"Indeed," responded Dumbledore. "What are you doing here? What do I owe the pleasure of meeting you once more, after so many years?"

"I've come to talk to you."

"Well, right now I've got an appointment with Cornelius Fudge, but maybe we could have a few drinks in that Muggle pub later?"

The man laughed, and Dumbledore gazed at him very attentively. There was something boyish in his laugh, and yet it was filled with sadness and the burdens of a much older man. He wondered, once more, who he was, and why it was so important for him to conceal his identity.

The man stopped laughing, and, though he couldn't see his face, Dumbledore almost could sense that, under the hood, he now had a serious expression etched upon his face.

"I haven't come for some drinks, Professor. I've come to see you, because I am surprised — well, not exactly surprised, because I knew I'd find you here ..." He made a pause and then continued, "It's hard to explain. The point is that you shouldn't be here."

"Why not?" Dumbledore asked, dumbfounded.

"The night is falling," the man answered. "And at Hogwarts, the Philosopher's Stone is unprotected."

"I don't know how you know about the Stone," replied Dumbledore, "though it doesn't really surprise me. But I assure you it's well-protected."

"It is not. Quirrell is sharing his body with Lord Voldemort. Your traps won't stop them."

Dumbledore stared at the man for a few seconds. "So my suspicions are true. I was almost sure Quirrell, by himself, would never have dared to try and steal the Stone. But you're wrong. It is true that those traps, as you say, won't stop him, but my protection will. The Mirror of Erised will be, I think, an insuperable barrier."

"Yes, but Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger don't know that. And Harry can get the Stone. Trying to stop Voldemort, Harry can be his way to get it."

"Harry is going to try and get the Stone before Quirrell," Dumbledore realised. "It'll happen tonight."

"Yes," the man confirmed. "I know your plan, Professor. I know what you are doing. This is not about the Stone, or about protecting it. Those traps, they are just a test. A test for Harry and his friends."

"Yes," Dumbledore confirmed, astonished by how much this man knew. "But how do you know that? I haven't told anyone. Minerva wouldn't allow it, but I'm fairly sure it is a good thing that Harry's got the opportunity to face Voldemort, and that this will unite him and his friends even more. He needs them."

"I agree with you on that," the man said. "Terrible as it may seem, this experience can mean everything for them. Even mean the difference between life and death in the next years. But it is true that they're just twelve years old. Your must be there, and assist them in the end."

"You're right," Dumbledore said, staring at the ground thoughtfully. "Yes, I must go back." He looked up at the cloaked man. "Why aren't you there? You were able to find me here. Couldn't you help them?"

"No," the man said. "I can do a lot of things, but that isn't one of them."

"Why not?"

"That would be very difficult to explain."

"You still aren't going to tell me your name."

"No."

"Will you, at some point?"

"I don't think so," the man answered. "Listen to me, Professor. I trust you, and I think you've done the right thing. You did a good job with Harry. Despite how hard his childhood has been, he's turned out all right. I know, because I've had an eye on him these past years. I trust your decisions. But you must trust me as well, and not ask me questions, or talk to anyone about me. Ever."

"Though I'm grateful for your trust, you're asking me too much without really giving anything."

"I'm giving you very good advice," the cloaked man replied. "Leave now, and go back to Hogwarts. They haven't gone for dinner yet, and they won't try to stop Quirrell 'til later tonight. You'll be back in time, but only if you leave immediately."

"All right," Dumbledore nodded, and, looking around, called the Thestral, which hadn't left the alleyway yet. "Shall I see you again?" he asked, looking back at the mysterious man.

"I think so, Professor. I think so. Until then, take care." And with those words, he turned round and simply vanished, without the slightest sound.

Dumbledore, still confused and shocked, mounted the Thestral, cast a new Disillusionment Charm upon himself, and flew off to Hogwarts, his mind full of questions.

— — o — —

Hermione sighed and leaned against the chair in which she was sitting, in the living room. She rubbed her eyes, tired of reading. Though she had kept her routine of being at the Ministry just for four hours a day, she was taking more work home than ever before during this last week. The Ministry was conditioning a large, underground room in the north of London that had not been used since the fifties, when the last meeting of the International Confederation of Wizards (ICW) had taken place on British territory.

Hermione had visited it on Monday, while dozens of Ministry employees were getting it ready. It was large enough to accommodate the delegations of the almost hundred and fifty Wizarding countries in the world, and had plenty of adjacent rooms for supporting staff and security.

And if Hermione had been very busy, her time divided between Rose and paperwork, Harry had been even worse. It was almost half past ten, and he hadn't come home yet. She looked around. Ginny, who was sitting on one of the armchairs, playing with James, kept glancing at the clock, where Harry's hand was still pointing at 'At Work;' she looked annoyed. Mr Weasley and her Dad were talking on the sofa, next to Bill, who was reading. George and Angelina were whispering to each other in another armchair. And from the kitchen, she could hear the sound of her mother, Mrs Weasley and Fleur talking.

She had lowered her eyes back to the report she was reading when the fireplace lit up with green flames, and Harry emerged, looking weary after having spent more than fourteen hours at the Ministry. He was pale, with very noticeable bags under his eyes, and Mrs Weasley had started to complain, a few days before, that he was too thin.

"Hey," he greeted his wife and son, kissing them both. "I'm famished."

"I imagine," said Ginny grumpily. Harry seemed not to notice this, though, and, after saying 'Hi' to the others went to the kitchen, where Molly immediately began to fuss about him.

Hermione heard them talking in the kitchen, but paid no attention. She wanted to finish reading that report, check on Rose and get into bed. She was almost finished when Harry came out of the kitchen, yawning, with James in his arms. Ginny followed him.

"How are you, Hermione?" he asked.

Hermione shrugged. "Okay, I suppose. And you?"

"Exhausted. I'm going to bed. Tomorrow I've got to get up early."

Those words set Ginny off, something that was a bit unsettling, because Harry and Ginny didn't usually have rows, at least not publicly.

"I want you to stop this, Harry," she told him, a deep scowl on her face.

"Stop what?" he asked, turning to face her.

"What you're doing to yourself, to your son, and to me."

Harry frowned, and then blinked a few times, his eyes on his wife and clearly not understanding. "I don't —"

"You are never at home," Ginny said; "you are always working, or worrying about work. And if what you had to do before wasn't enough, now comes this fucking meeting!"

"Ginny!" Mrs Weasley scolded her from the doorway to the kitchen.

"It's true!" Ginny shouted. "I'm tired of this, Harry."

"It's my job!" Harry yelled back. "You know how things are, Ginny; what's at stake!"

"Yes, I know!" Ginny exclaimed, her eyes bright. "I know very well. It seems that you're the only one that doesn't!"

"WHAT?"

"You never have time for me, or James! We haven't got a single moment alone anymore! The instant your head touches the pillow you're out cold! And when you aren't, you are too worried to talk about anything!"

"Ginny, I — This ... I've got to do this," he stammered, his voice softer.

"No, you haven't!" Ginny continued yelling. "You haven't! It hasn't got to be you this time! You haven't got to carry the world on your shoulders every time something evil happens! You're an Auror, Harry, and I respect that, but you've got a family, too!"

"I know!" Harry exclaimed. "I haven't forgotten!"

"No?" Ginny asked, her voice softer. "Are you sure? Because sometimes I doubt it. Our second child will be here in a month, Harry. I don't know if you're aware."

"Of course I am! I'm trying to make a better world for him! And for James! And for Victoire, and Teddy, and Rose, and Dominique!"

"You haven't got to do everything! You're no longer the Chosen One! I'm not asking you to stop doing what you do, or to give up on your ideals! But you're giving yourself to your 'world saviour' part and forgetting the part in which you are a father and a husband."

Ginny fell silent, her eyes shimmering, and Harry didn't answer. An uncomfortable silence filled the room. Everyone else seemed to realise that they had been watching, and began to move. Mrs Weasley, Hermione's mother and Fleur went back to the kitchen, followed by Bill; Hermione's father and Mr Weasley went up, like George and Angelina. Only Hermione stayed in the living room, the report still in her hands.

"Ginny's right," she dared to say.

"What?" Harry asked, turning to face her.

"This is not your war, Harry. At least not only yours. I don't know why Ron left, but it had something to do with this. And you're leaving Ginny as well, though in a different way. I don't want her — anybody, to tell the truth — to go through what I'm going through. We don't know how to stop Sbalkal, Harry, and you working for twenty hours a day won't help."

"That's rich coming from you, Hermione. How many hours did you spend in the library when —"

"Times change; people change; circumstances change," she cut him in. "We weren't parents then, Harry, but we are now. And sometimes, overworking yourself does more harm than good. Yes, I've learned that," she added, when she saw Harry open his mouth. "And I learned something else, during the other war: sometimes you've got to focus on _why_ you are fighting, instead of _how_. You need to focus on the why, Harry, and your 'why' is right here, not at the Ministry."

She got up, not giving him time to reply but, before she could give more than two steps, there was a loud noise on the stairs and Percy appeared, looking anxious and dishevelled.

"Percy?" said Ginny furrowing her brow.

"Audrey's just — just broke water."

"What?" she replied.

"Audrey's giving birth!"

"Oh, Merlin!" Mrs Weasley, who had come out of the kitchen, said. "We've got to take her to St Mungo's! Where is she?"

"In the bathroom," answered Percy.

"Let's go," Mr Weasley said.

She and Fleur hurried up to fetch her, and, between the two, managed to get her out of The Burrow and Apparate her to St Mungo's, while Mr Weasley went to inform Audrey's family of what was happening.

It took one hour for Audrey to give birth to a girl that was named Molly, to Mrs Weasley's delight. When Audrey told her, she couldn't help but cry and embrace them both, they almost on the verge of tears as well. Hermione felt happy for the family, as this new birth was giving them a bit of much necessary joy after Ron's disappearance. But she couldn't help but feel sad and lonely as well. Watching Percy beside Audrey and seeing them both enjoy and relish in the love for their daughter together was almost too much, because that was exactly what she had wanted when Rose had been born — what she still wanted.

But all in all, the birth was good for the family, and when they finally went back to The Burrow, she heard Harry promise Ginny that, after the meeting of the ICW, he would take some time off and work less hours so they could spend more time together.

— — o — —

The next days passed between preparations for the meeting and fussing over the new member of the family. Percy took Thursday off, and worked from home on Friday. He was still going to go to the meeting, as he had worked a lot in preparing it. Mrs Weasley had asked him not to go and to stay home. But it would only be a few hours and then he would take a few weeks off.

And so the day came. The ministers and delegates from the other Wizarding countries had arrived, slowly, during Friday, and had been placed in selected Muggle hotels in London. More than eight hundred people would be in the underground premises the Ministry had prepared: ministers, among them secretaries and high-ranking officials, and, especially, Aurors. The Aurors around two hundred in number would be organised by Harry, to ensure the safety of the meeting.

Hermione entered the premises, alongside Percy, at half-past nine, through one of the fake shops that concealed the entrances. Apparition was impossible in the area. Once there, they both had walked towards the large conference room to the British desk. She could feel people staring at her, some of them even pointing at her, and she tried to act politely. She would have preferred to ignore them all, but she had to be diplomatic.

As she walked, she looked around, observing the changes in the room, which didn't look the same at all. Long, beautiful drapes hung from the walls, and big, bright orbs of light floated near the ceiling, illuminating everything with a soft, golden light.

Kingsley and other members of the Ministry were already there, preparing everything, and Hermione and Percy promptly joined them. Kingsley would be the first one to speak, after the Supreme Mugwump of the Confederation.

Twenty minutes later, when the room was almost full, Harry came, followed by Neville, to tell them that the last delegations had arrived and that everything was okay. The three shops that concealed an entrance would be closed and all the protective charms would be put up.

"Perfect, Harry. Thank you."

"See you later," Harry told them, and left.

The Supreme Mugwump of the Confederation, a French old, bald, bespectacled man dressed in dark purple robes and called Antoine Robard approached them, followed by the Secretary-General, a stern-looking, middle-aged woman from Canada.

"I zeenk everyone is already 'ere," Robard said. "We can start."

"Yes," agreed Kingsley. "My chief security officer has just told me everyone has arrived. I think you haven't met all my staff. Here is Ms Hermione Granger — you already know Mr Percy Weasley ..."

"Oh, 'Ermione Granger, _oui_, it's a pleasure, _mademoiselle_," Robard said, shaking her hand delicately. "A real 'onour, it is."

"Thank you," Hermione answered, blushing a little.

"It's almost time, Mr Robard," said the Secretary-General, checking her watch.

"Yes, yes. Let's begin, shall we?"

The man went to the raised dais and moved towards the podium on it. The Secretary-General left, too, and went to the raised seat on the back of the dais. From there, she would moderate the reunion. The noise in the room died out.

"Ministers, delegates and representatives from all over the world; we've gathered 'ere, at zis extraordinary meeting, to address a new and terrible menace brought upon the 'ole Wizarding world, something zat 'ad not 'appened ever before. A menace embodied in a man named Sbalkal. But before we continue, I would like to ask you for a minute of silence to 'onour zose 'oo have died since all zis began."

Robard lowered his head, and everyone in the room imitated him. Even the orbs that lit the room were dimmed. Hermione closed her eyes, and thought about Terry, and Justin, and all the other Aurors, and Julie ... Julie, who had been Ron's trainee. Julie, who was almost family. She missed her a lot, and yet, what with everything that had happened, it had been too long since the last time she had thought of her, because all her thoughts had been with Ron, wherever he was.

She felt a sudden sadness surround her, but was shaken out of her thoughts by the lights becoming brighter again and Robard resuming his speech.

"Thank you very much." He took a deep breath. "Well, as you already know, we're under the threat of a man 'oo calls 'imself Sbalkal. Where 'e is from, nobody knows. Zis man, 'oo 'as committed, or made ozers commit, terrible crimes at the beginning of zis year, is now at large. 'E destroyed Azkaban, killing dozens of people, and causing a great crisis in the Muggle world. Zeir governments believe zat a nuclear bomb was detonated at Azkaban's location. And now zis enemy is sending 'is men, former Death Eaters, to interfere in our governments and the Muggle ones, making it difficult for us to stop zis crisis.

"We're living in dark, troubled times. We must unite and act togezzer to stop zis before it is too late. We must adopt a common strategy to capture zese Death Eaters and protect ourselves and the Muggles." There was a moment of silence. Robard breathed in and out a few times and then continued. "Britain 'as been the most 'armed country since zis began. Several Aurors, along dozens of ozer people 'ave been assassinated 'ere by 'im and 'is followers. The British Minister 'as been personally threatened, so, before we begin to discuss the measures we should take to deal with zis, I zeenk it'll be better if we 'ear what 'e 'as to say." He looked directly at Kingsley. "Minister Shacklebolt, please."

Robard retreated, and, between a great, but tense applause, Kingsley approached the stand.

"Good morning, fellow ministers, delegates and other representatives of the Wizarding world. As Supreme Mugwump Robard has stated, we're living in troubled times. And when I say troubled times, I know what I'm talking about. I fought and was prosecuted during the last war just eight years ago, when Lord Voldemort rose against the Ministry and seized power. Three of the heroes of that time are here tonight, as part of the staff of the British Ministry," Hermione felt some people stare at her, "— and I can say that this is as bad as what happened then. True, Sbalkal still hasn't seized power, but the true nature of his powers is completely unknown to us, and, if I am completely sincere, I've got to admit we don't have any clue of how to beat him." There were a few murmurs among the delegates that crowded the large room, and Kingsley waited patiently for them to die out.

"However, our priority today is to decide how to stop the crisis in the Muggle world caused by the explosion in Azkaban. It is crucial that we manage to stop Sbalkal's men from Confunding and putting Muggles under the _Imperius_ Curse. Our Muggle Prime Minister is already aware of the situation, but of course, he alone is unable to stop the rumours. We've been using a temporary castle to hold criminals, but our forces have been severely damaged. Sbalkal's army outnumbers our Aurors. So I, in the name of Wizarding Britain, ask the Confederation for help."

An old, short and white-bearded man dressed in silver robes stood up. The Secretary-General announced, loudly, "Mr Robert Stewson, Minister of Australia, has the floor."

The room was enchanted so the Secretary-General was able to give any person the floor and allow them to be heard by everyone else. Casting a _Sonorus _Charm was useless.

"Thank you, Secretary-General," Stewson responded. He fixed his gaze on Kingsley. "Mr Shacklebolt, you have Harry Potter among your Aurors. You mentioned him a moment ago, though you didn't utter his name. He is in charge of the security of this meeting. He is the _Chosen One_. He beat Lord Voldemort. Surely he can do something! I would want his opinion on this matter, and I'm sure I'm not the only one."

In response, several voices could be heard across the room, all of them agreeing with Stewson and demanding that Harry go to the dais and speak to them. Hermione felt a sudden rage surge inside her, and frowned. What right did these people have to demand anything from Harry? Hadn't he done enough for them? The last thing Harry needed was to feel that the Wizarding world — the _whole_ Wizarding world — believed he was the one who had to solve this.

_You're lucky Ginny's not here,_ she thought, scowling at Stewson, _or she would give you a piece of her mind._

On the dais, Kingsley seemed to be thinking the same, and, though he looked calm and polite as ever, Hermione, who knew him, was sure that he was very furious.

"Harry Potter is not connected to this enemy in any way, or, at least, no more than anyone else in Britain or the rest of the world. You're right; he beat Lord Voldemort. But, as I've stated previously, the man who calls himself Sbalkal and Lord Voldemort have very little in common, besides their obvious lust for power. Lord Voldemort, despite how powerful he was, had some important flaws and a great weakness. Harry Potter was the man to use those things against him. But Sbalkal has no weaknesses, as far as we know. It would be unfair to ask from Harry Potter more than from anyone else. Of course, if he wants, he can speak to this Confederation later, but —"

A loud noise in the hall that led to the conference room caused Kingsley to stop talking. Everyone looked at the big double doors. Behind them, people were screaming and yelling. The two Aurors on guard at each side of the doors raised their wands and moved to face them and any enemy that eventually would come in.

"This isn't possible," Percy said, very upset. "There are almost two hundred Aurors here. Surely no one —"

He didn't finish his sentence, because in that precise moment the double doors blew up into pieces, and the force of the explosion sent the two Aurors flying before they had time to act. Through the hole, Hermione saw that the hall was ablaze, and in the doorway, his silhouette unmistakable against the flames behind him, was Sbalkal.

Hermione was almost paralysed by sheer terror; Sbalkal's image was like a living nightmare, a reminder of death and destruction and something deeply linked, in her mind, to Ron's disappearance. And now here he was, in which was supposed to be the most secure place on Earth. How had he broken in?

The people whose seats were closer to the doors stood up and retreated instinctively, some of them drawing their wands. And just a moment later, the lateral doors burst open and Harry, along dozens of Aurors, came in running, and tried to surround Sbalkal, who seemed completely unfazed by this. He just gave a few steps forward, and then, the doors that had been blasted mended themselves and closed behind his back, hiding the burning hall.

"DON'T MOVE!" Harry yelled, now in the middle corridor that connected the double doors with the dais and divided the conference room in two. "DON'T MOVE!"

Sbalkal stopped, though, Hermione noticed, not because he had been told to do so, and watched the dignitaries retreat and the Aurors move to stand in front of them. All of them drew their wands and pointed them at Sbalkal.

Sbalkal smiled at Harry, and, even from the distance, Hermione could tell that that grin meant both amusement and danger. Then, he raised his head a bit, and stared directly at Kingsley.

"Minister Shacklebolt ... Supreme Mugwump Robard," he addressed them, in mock respect and with a potent voice that resounded across the entire room. "How can I thank you for this wonderful meeting? You have saved me a lot of trouble, gathering in this place delegates from all the Wizarding countries in the world."

"SHUT UP!" yelled Harry. Hermione couldn't see his face, but could easily imagine it, almost red with rage. "You are under arrest!"

Sbalkal looked at him, and his smile vanished.

"Arrested? You arrested me once, didn't you, Harry? What use did it have? Absolutely none. Let's not pretend this time. You can't arrest me. _You can't stop me_, so get out of my way. I want to congratulate you on your promotion, though. You're a worthier choice than Blevelty, that's for sure."

"DON'T SPEAK ABOUT HIM!" Harry yelled. "I saw what you did to him, how you tainted him and how you made him choose between his principles and the life of his daughter! YOU MAKE ME SICK!"

Sbalkal snorted. "That girl was going to die," he said contemptuously. "But she's alive now, isn't she?"

"You said you caused her illness!" Harry replied, beside himself.

"Oh, yes," Sbalkal said, and smiled. "Good memory."

"_Incarcerous!_" Harry yelled, and thick ropes burst from the tip of his wand and flew towards Sbalkal. However, with an almost bored gesture, caught them in his hands and threw them to the floor, where they vanished. The Aurors raised their wands a bit more, ready to strike.

"We're going to stop you," Harry stated, "one way or the other."

"Harry Potter," Sbalkal said softly, shaking his head in disapproval. "The Chosen One; the Great Hero; the Saviour of the World. You've got a hero complex, boy, always have, since you decided it was your duty to protect the Philosopher's Stone. You're impulsive, and like to act before thinking. You have changed a bit, but it seems it is not enough.

"I told you in my message that this was not your battle, and that this time you weren't the Chosen One. And yet here you are, trying to stop me, commanding all these men. Let me give you an advice, Harry. _Think_. Just think. In your eagerness to stop me and save the world once more, you're putting more than a hundred lives in danger. Contrarily to what you believe, I do not kill for pleasure. If you want to know the truth, your lives mean nothing to me. I can let you live, but I can also kill you all. The question is not whether you are going to stop me or not. _You cannot stop me, because I am unstoppable_. The question is: are you going to sacrifice the lives of all these people? Because, I assure you, if you attack me, I'll retaliate, like I did in the hall," he explained, moving his head to point at the doors behind him.

"What do you want?" Kingsley asked him.

"I want everything," Sbalkal said, and moved a bit forward. At the same time, the Aurors retreated a bit, and some of them moved, surrounding him. "You've been wondering, these past weeks, where I was and what I was doing ... Well, first of all, you must understand that time doesn't mean the same to me than to you. And I've got other plans and other goals, more important even than ruling over you. But rule I shall, because I must; I am the power that controls the world. You saw what I did during my trial. And believe me, I was a mere shadow of what I am now. And I won't lie: I don't do this because I think you're incapable of ruling yourselves, or because I _believe _I'll build a better society in the end, or any of that nonsense other people have used in the past to justify their actions. My goal is just power - power for the sake of power. I want to rule because I am superior to you. And you'll obey me, not because you think it's the best, but because you haven't got another choice, except maybe death.

"Now I'll get up there," he added, pointing at the dais, "and you all will swear loyalty to me. Then, the Muggle countries will fall under my rule as well, and the entire humanity will be under my sole control."

"We'll never do that," Kingsley stated. "We won't give absolute power to a monster like you."

Sbalkal stared at him.

"_Give?_" he repeated in a soft voice, and Hermione had the feeling that he was trying not to laugh at them. "Haven't you heard anything I said? Do you think I've come here to _ask_ for it? I'm not asking anything. I've _already_ got absolute power. You don't give it to me; you just accept it."

"We'll _never_ accept that!" Kingsley replied hotly. "We didn't fight against Lord Voldemort to give you, a murderer, control over our lives!"

"And what other choice have you got?" Sbalkal asked. "I don't need you. I'm sure you realised I've come alone, without any of my slaves. Yes, _slaves_," he repeated, after seeing the shock on several faces. "They know what they are, and they've accepted it. But I came here without them, because I don't need them. They're useful, but not essential. I don't need anyone. I don't even need you. I can rule over a million people or one thousand, I don't really care. As I've said, your lives mean nothing to me." His expression became a bit more serious and determined. "Now, Harry Potter, stand aside, and then, you and the others can accept your fate."

"_No_," Harry replied. "I won't move. I won't help a monster like you."

Sbalkal let out a loud laugh that sent chills down Hermione's spine.

"A bit late for that, I think. You already did, Harry, eight years ago."

"What!?" Harry yelled, shocked. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not here to explain anything to you," Sbalkal replied, his face serious once more. "Now step aside."

"No."

"You've got one child, and another one coming. Shouldn't you think of them?"

"I am thinking of them."

"No, you aren't," Sbalkal replied. "What good will it do for them to have a dead father?"

Harry hesitated, and Hermione almost could see his desire to do the right thing battle against his common sense.

"I've had enough," Sbalkal said suddenly, and a moment later, the Aurors blocking his way, with Harry in the front, were pushed to the side by an invisible force, bumping into the delegates, ministers and desks. And now with a clean path ahead of him, Sbalkal walked towards Kingsley.

"STOP!" yelled Neville, sitting up on the floor. He pointed his wand at Sbalkal and shouted, "_Stupefy!_"

Sbalkal threw a contemptuous glance towards Neville and stopped the spell with his hand. Then made a gesture with his index finger, and Neville fell backwards once more screaming in pain, his nose and mouth bleeding profusely.

Other Aurors began to attack Sbalkal, throwing at him all kind of hexes and curses. However, he dodged and stopped all of them effortlessly.

But then, one of the Aurors behind him shot a curse at his back, and, this time, it touched him.

However, it seemed to mean nothing to him. He turned round, moved his hand, and the Auror was blasted backwards, hitting the wall at tremendous speed and crumpling onto the floor afterwards.

"You cannot stop me!" Sbalkal shouted, and, like the day of the trial, everyone fell onto their backs and was pushed across the floor and towards the surrounding walls, hitting desks and chairs on their way. Hermione screamed and protected her head with her arms. When she stopped moving, her body sore in multiple places, she opened her eyes, and saw Sbalkal leaping onto the dais. He turned to face the room.

"You cannot stop me," Sbalkal stated, his voice loud and powerful. "You cannot defy me. You cannot hide from me. Acceptance — or death. Those are your only choices."

"Be'll nefah suffendah ter cha!" shouted Neville.

Sbalkal looked down at him, and suddenly Neville was pulled upwards, lifted by an invisible and strong force. He began to kick his legs in the air and lifted his hands to his neck, trying, unsuccessfully, to get free of the force holding and strangling him.

"Release him!" Harry shouted. He had got to his feet too, and was now pointing his wand at Sbalkal. "RELEASE HIM!"

Sbalkal, in response, tilted his head to the side. Neville let out a muffled cry of pain, and then dropped to the floor, unconscious — or dead?

_Please, Neville no, not Neville, please. Not him_, Hermione thought desperately.

"Kneel before me, and swear loyalty," ordered Sbalkal. "Say you're my slaves, and swear that my wish is your will, and I'll let you live."

Half the people in the room were trying to get up and out, but, upon hearing Sbalkal's words, they stopped, and looked back at him, though some of them kept walking backwards. However, they stopped when another voice, still magnified by magic, spoke.

"You cannot force us to obey you," Kingsley said, defiantly. He had got up, too, and was approaching Sbalkal warily. A deep cut was visible on his forehead. "We resisted Voldemort, and we'll resist you as well."

Sbalkal turned his face to look at him.

"Acceptance, or death," Sbalkal repeated in a soft, dangerous voice. He moved his right arm in a quick slashing gesture, and Kingsley's head was cut off his body. And as in slow motion, Hermione saw it fall to the dais and roll over it before falling to the floor while the rest of the body crumpled, a strong gush of blood surging from the neck.

"NO, NO!" Harry yelled.

"Oh, no, oh, no, Kingsley!" sobbed Hermione, utterly horrified and trembling from head to toe.

"MURDERER!" yelled someone among the crowd, loudly and clear. And then —"_CONFODIO!_"

The streak of purple light soared towards Sbalkal, and as it crossed the air it seemed to draw everyone's attention. It hit him just on the stomach and went through him. Blood began to spill from the wound.

But he didn't fall, or move. Suddenly, the bleeding stopped, the blood stain seemed to diminish, and, finally, the wound and the hole in his cloak and robes vanished, just as if it had never been there.

He looked down, at the people watching him incredulously. Hermione felt a new shiver run down her body, and a terrible, unbearable fear gripped her and rendered her unable to move. A Stabbing Curse had speared him and he had healed. Were they facing an unbeatable being?

"You'll learn not to defy me," Sbalkal said, and, as if some spell holding them had broken, people began to scatter, trying to get away from him. But before anyone could barely move, he raised his hands, pointing them towards the people, and, suddenly, incredibly bright lightning bolts burst out of his fingers. The first of them struck the back of the wizard who had shot the Stunning Spell, electrocuting him almost instantly. A nasty smell of burnt flesh began to fill the room, as the man's robes burst into flames.

Overwhelmed by panic, people began to scream and run. However, Sbalkal seemed now to be glowing, consumed by his own terrible power. The lightning bolts struck other people, killing them; they hit also desks and chairs, setting them on fire. The smell started to become nauseating.

"We've got to get out of here, Hermione!" Percy said to her, grabbing her right arm and trying to drag her towards the side doors.

"But Harry — and Neville!" She looked around for them, and was glad to see that Harry was running towards her, dodging desks and chairs and other people running in the opposite direction. But Neville was still unconscious on the floor, next to the dais. Harry seemed to realise this, and turned to get him.

"GET OUT!" he yelled at Hermione and Percy, and then moved towards Neville, half-ducking and trying not to be seen by Sbalkal.

But Sbalkal wasn't so easy to deceive. He stopped sending lightning bolts and gave a step towards Harry, who was lifting Neville's body from the floor with his wand.

"Going somewhere?" Sbalkal asked him.

Fearing for Harry's life, Hermione got free from Percy's hold and threw a Blowing Hex at Sbalkal, trying to give Harry time to flee. However, Sbalkal stopped the spell without even looking at it, and gave another step towards Harry.

"You all chose death," Sbalkal said. "So —" He stopped talking abruptly, and looked around, his eyes narrowed, as if he had suddenly noticed something strange.

Harry looked up at him, paralysed for a moment, and then started to retreat, taking advantage of Sbalkal's strange distraction.

"I'll KILL THEM ALL!" Sbalkal yelled, though Hermione couldn't understand to whom he was talking. He raised his hands, but, before he could do anything, there was a very loud CRACK and the ceiling above Sbalkal began to fall. He frowned, furious, and made an angry gesture to protect himself. The falling pieces of concrete, wood and stone were pushed to one side, and fell loudly over a group or burning desks and chairs.

A second later, Sbalkal was suddenly pushed backwards, as if he had been struck by an invisible spell, and hit the wall behind and the logo of the ICW, which began to fall over him.

And then Hermione saw him. There, standing upon a desk, was the cloaked man that had saved her from Sbalkal's men. He must have been the one who had attacked him.

Hermione watched him jump off the desk, and, moving very fast, he reached Harry and Neville, grabbed them, and helped them move closer to Hermione and Percy.

"You!" exclaimed Hermione.

"You've got to get out!" the man told them, breathing heavily. "I can't stop him, not for long. COME ON, MOVE!"

They began to run towards the side doors, where several people were still trying to exit the room.

"YOU!" Hermione heard Sbalkal roar. "AT LAST I SEE YOU! Who are you? Reveal yourself!"

The cloaked man turned round, and Hermione and Harry did the same instinctively. Sbalkal had got up, and, moving towards them, he threw a bright ball of light which flew very quickly towards them. Making what Hermione realised was a huge effort, the cloaked man put his hands in front of him, like a shield, and the ball, instead of hitting them, turned upwards and hit the wall behind them near the ceiling.

There was a deafening explosion, and a good portion of the wall was blown into pieces. The people in that zone threw themselves to the floor. The cloaked man retaliated with something similar, but Sbalkal hit the ball of light with his hand and it struck the floor in the middle of the room, causing another — though smaller — explosion.

The cloaked man, Hermione realised with fear, seemed now even more tired than before, but, despite this, he made another gesture with his hand and the part of the dais where Sbalkal was on blew up, throwing him backwards among a cloud of smoke, dust and splinters. Then, the stranger pointed one hand to the ceiling, and the part that was still intact and above the dais began to fall, burying Sbalkal in rubble.

The man turned round to face them, and for a moment didn't say anything. But an instant later, Hermione felt something, like a ripple in the air, and the man yelled.

"YOU CAN DISAPPARATE NOW! DISAPPARATE!"

Some people stared at him, dumbfounded and shocked. It was, after all, impossible to Disapparate there, wasn't it? But then, a man near them turned round and successfully vanished with a 'crack!'

Seeing that, everyone else in the room began to do the same. The cloaked man turned to face Harry, Hermione and Percy.

"I know you've got questions, but I can't answer them. You've got to get out of here soon; I can't hold him back for long, not in my current state. There's nothing you can do against him, so go home and hide!"

"But —" Harry started to say.

There was a loud noise, and part of the rubble that had fallen on the dais blew up in all directions.

"GET OUT! QUICKLY"

"Thank you ... again," said Hermione.

The man simply wheeled around and ran forwards, ready to face Sbalkal once more. But while Percy clutched her hand to Disapparate, she could hear the voice of the mysterious man inside her head.

_Hide and keep Rose safe._

And before she had time to say anything, she was being comprised into nothingness, and a moment later, they were outside the limits of The Burrow. But, before she could even take a breath, she heard him once more, his voice now distant and fading.

_Ron is all right._

And, overcome by her emotions, she dropped to her knees and began to cry.

* * *

_Well, no, still no Ron ... But the cloaked man is back! Yes, I know you've seen him in the flashbacks, but he hadn't made an appearance since chapter 1. And he's got news about Ron! If he's telling the truth, of course ...  
_

_Anyway, I suppose you're a bit sad about Kingsley, but you see, he's the Minister and Sbalkal wanted to take over, so ... the odds were not in his favour.  
_

_Maybe you're wondering if I'm going to kill all the characters, and it's a fair question! (the answer is a no, by the way)  
_

_Next chapter, on Thursday!_


	21. Downfall

_Another chapter! And to those desperate to know about Ron, just tell you that we're close to know what happened to him._

_As always, thanks to __**Kathy**__ for her help._

* * *

**PART II**

**TALES OF OLD SECRETS**

_**Chapter 21**_

**Downfall**

* * *

_24th June, 1994_

Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, the last issue of _Transfiguration Today_ opened in front of him. He had been reading it, but now it lay open on the desk, almost forgotten. His mind had begun to wander and was now filled with thoughts of Sirius Black.

Sirius Black ...

He looked through the window. The night had fallen, and bright stars could be seen in the sky.

Sirius Black ...

How had he managed to break into the school twice? Sirius had been an extraordinary wizard, like his best friend — back then — James Potter, but his attacks against the Fat Lady and Ron Weasley seemed to indicate that he wasn't in the possession of a wand. So how could he enter the school and avoid the Dementors? Severus had warned him about Remus, but Remus had been another of James and Lily's best friends. He surely hated Sirius for his horrible betrayal ...

He got lost in thought, thinking about all those years ago, when those boys had been students at Hogwarts. Sirius was funny and likeable, though his and James' pranks could be excessive at times. He was so different from his parents and his brother. He had been placed in Gryffindor, he had became a member of the Order, and he had befriended a Muggleborn ... How was it possible that he had been a Death Eater? And if he had killed all those people so easily, why hadn't he killed Ron Weasley that night to silence him and then attacked Harry, instead of fleeing?What had stopped him?

He stood up and began to pace back and forth. There was something odd there. Nobody else seemed to care, or give it the slightest importance, but his mind wouldn't let it rest.

He looked at the starry sky once more, and, not knowing why, the image of Buckbeak came to his mind, causing his mouth to curve into a smile. At least, that had ended well. While they were in Hagrid's hut, he had seen Hermione Granger and Harry free him, and couldn't help but admire their nerve, especially Hermione's. Harry was more inclined to break the rules, but that wasn't — usually — the case with Hermione. Surely she found the sentence very unfair, but it was very curious that she had been there and not Ron Weasley. There was something strange there, too. Where was —?

A sudden knock on the door interrupted his train of thought. He looked at the door and was going to say, 'come in,' but, before he could open his mouth, the door opened, and the mysterious cloaked man walked in.

"Good evening, Professor."

Dumbledore just stared at him for a few seconds, too shocked to answer.

"You," he managed to say finally.

"Me," the man replied with a weary voice. He gave a few steps, and Dumbledore noticed he didn't seem to be very well.

"You look tired," Dumbledore commented. "Are you all right?"

"No," the man answered honestly. "I shouldn't be here, and I can't stay for long."

"Why?" Dumbledore asked, curious. Was there something in Hogwarts that caused him to be ill?

"It's complicated."

"Everything seems complicated when it comes to you," Dumbledore replied, resigned. "I'd want to know, though, how did you know the password of the gargoyle. You aren't one of my professors, are you?"

"I told you once that I know a lot of things," the man said. "But I didn't come here to discuss me, or how I know what I know. I came because important things are happening, Professor, and you are missing them."

"What things?" Dumbledore asked, very interested.

"Come with me."

The man opened the door and began to climb down the stairs. Deeply intrigued, Dumbledore followed him. When they reached the deserted corridor, the man walked towards the window at the end of it.

"Come," he asked Dumbledore, "and watch."

Dumbledore approached the window, and looked out of it, towards the lake.

What he saw made his blood run cold in his veins.

Dozens, maybe a hundred Dementors were converging towards the shore, where Harry was trying, unsuccessfully, to repel them casting a _Patronus_. However, he seemed unable to do so. Around him, a few bodies lay on the ground, presumably unconscious due to the Dementors' proximity. In the darkness, he couldn't recognise them.

Harry fell to the ground.

"I've got to go there!" Dumbledore said, taking out his wand, but his mysterious companion grabbed his arm to stop him.

"Watch," he said, pointing at something with his glove-covered hand.

Dumbledore looked at the location he was indicating, and saw a point of light grow. The point became a corporal _Patronus_, a stag, which graciously galloped over the waters of the lake. Before it got away from its caster, Dumbledore could distinguish two people on that side. There was something familiar about their clothes, and the stag ...

The stag reached the group of unconscious people at the same time than the Dementors, and immediately began to attack them, making them scatter and flee. And under the white light of the beautiful animal, he saw the bodies of Harry, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Severus and — if he was not mistaken — Sirius Black.

"Sirius Black!" he shouted. "What is he —?"

But the other gestured for him to stay quiet. On the grounds, the stag was galloping back to his caster, and, when he reached him, it stopped. Dumbledore cast a Lens Charm on the window.

"Harry ... and Hermione!" he said, confirming his suspicions and finally understanding everything. "The Time-turner!"

"The Time-turner, yes."

"It was _they_ who saved Buckbeak."

"Yes."

"But — why?"

"I haven't got the time to stay and answer all that. You'll understand soon," said the cloaked man, who sounded more tired than ever. "Sirius Black is innocent. Peter Pettigrew is alive."

"What?"

"It's true. Pettigrew was the Potter's Secret Keeper, not Sirius. Don't forget this. Now I've got to go."

"But — wait!"

But the man was already walking away, and, before Dumbledore could say anything more, he had vanished as silently as always.

— — o — —

"Hermione, I know this is terrible, but we've got to get inside!" Harry yelled at her. Hermione wiped her tears away and looked at him. Percy had lifted Neville's body with his hand and was now walking towards the fence.

"Come on!" he urged them.

Harry held out his hand to her, and she took it and got up. Then, together, the four of them got into the protected area and headed straight to the house. Before they reached it, the door opened, and Mr Weasley appeared on the door, shocked and worried.

"What's happened?" he asked. "It is too early for you to —" he laid his eyes on Neville and stopped talking mid-sentence. "Is that Neville? What happened —?"

"Later, Dad," Percy said, entering the house. Hermione and Harry followed him, and, behind them, Mr Weasley closed the door.

In the living room, Ginny was sitting on the couch, with James beside her. On the floor, Victoire was playing. Fleur and Mrs Weasley were in the doorway to the kitchen.

"What —?" Ginny began to ask.

"Get off the couch, Ginny," Percy asked her. "We've got to put Neville there."

Ginny got up quite quickly, taking James in her arms. Percy moved his wand and put Neville's body on the couch.

"What has happened?" Mrs Weasley asked, very worried. "Say something!"

They heard quick steps on the stairs, and, a moment later, Hermione's mother and Audrey, with Molly in her arms, were in the living room.

"What has happened?" Hermione's mother asked. "Why are you —? Is that Neville? What has happened to his face?"

"Sbalkal," explained Harry bitterly. "Sbalkal happened. He appeared there, despite all we had done to prevent it, and he — he —" Harry seemed unable to say it.

"He killed the Minister," finished Hermione.

"He did WHAT?" Mr Weasley asked, completely shocked.

"He killed Kingsley," repeated Hermione, "among many others."

"Oh, Merlin!" Ginny exclaimed.

"But — weren't there more than a hundred Aurors?" Hermione's mother asked.

"Mum, Neville needs help," Percy said to his mother.

Mrs Weasley shook her head, still shocked, and then nodded. "Yes, yes ..." she said, and hurried to Neville's side.

"There were near two hundred Aurors," Harry said. "But it was useless. None of the spells we used could stop him. He was hit with a Stabbing Curse and he healed himself."

"No!" Fleur exclaimed.

"Yes."

"We could escape," continued Hermione, "just because that man that saved me in November appeared and began to fight him. Hadn't been for him, maybe ... maybe we wouldn't be here."

_Ron is all right._

Hermione felt her eyes moisten once more.

"Where are George, Angelina, and Bill?" asked Harry suddenly.

"George is at the shop... and Bill went with him; he had to do something in Diagon Alley," explained Mr Weasley. "Angelina is at her parents'."

"And Dad?" Hermione asked her mother.

"In the backyard."

"I'm going to Diagon Alley," said Harry, heading for the fireplace. "That man told us to hide, and I think that's the best idea right now. We've got to get everyone here, or to Grimmauld Place. George, Bill, Angelina, her parents, Audrey's dad, Hannah ... Andromeda and Teddy too. I don't know what's going to happen, but surely nothing good." And without another word, he disappeared through the fire.

"I'm going to fetch my father, then," Audrey said, extremely worried.

"I'll take care of that," said Mr Weasley, and Audrey nodded.

"I'll get Andromeda and Teddy," said Fleur.

"And I'll send a Patronus to whomever is now at Grimmauld Place," added Percy.

Soon everyone was moving. Ginny sat on one of the armchairs, and Mrs Weasley took Victoire's hand and sat on another armchair. The little girl was watching everything with big and curious eyes, not understanding what was happening, but aware that it was something bad.

"Is Rose all right?" Hermione asked her mother.

"Yes, she's sleeping," her mother answered. She stared at her daughter, and her face filled with worry and sympathy. "Hermione, don't cry."

"You didn't see w-what we s-saw," Hermione sobbed, shaking her head. "Kingsley b-beheaded, and people being electrocuted and burned alive ..."

"Oh, God!"

"His powers are so terrible! We couldn't do anything! If — if he hadn't appeared, we would be d-dead right now."

"But who is he?" Mrs Weasley asked, having finished with Neville, who now was snoring peacefully. "Or _what_?"

"I don't know, but he seems to have the same kind of powers Sbalkal's got. He seemed weak, though, and told us he wouldn't be able to hold him for long."

"But why hasn't he appeared before? Why doesn't he tell us what's happening?" wondered Ginny.

"I don't know," Hermione said. "He just told us to get out and hide, and we did. And ..."

"And what, Hermione?" Ginny encouraged.

"He spoke directly into my mind. And told me — told me that — that Ron ... Ron is all right."

"WHAT?" Mrs Weasley said, getting to her feet and approaching her. "He is? But where? WHERE?"

Hermione shook her head. "He didn't tell me anything more. His voice vanished. Maybe Sbalkal — maybe Sbalkal killed him, too."

With an air of defeat replacing the hope that had filled her a moment before, Mrs Weasley dropped onto a chair.

"Oh, Ron ..."

Hermione tore her eyes away from her. "I ... I need to see Rose," she declared, and hurried towards the stairs and upwards, to her and Rose's room.

She opened the door carefully and tiptoed into the room, not wanting to awaken her if she was asleep.

She was and Hermione, like every time that she saw her after being apart, fell in love once more and couldn't help but smile. She had the thumb of her right hand in her tiny mouth, and was moving slightly, probably dreaming. Hermione stared at her, her best achievement.

"Someone told me that Daddy is all right, Rosie," Hermione muttered to her, "but he didn't tell me where he is or why he isn't with us." She brushed her moistened cheeks with her right hand, and then thought about the cloaked man, and about what he had told her ...

_Protect Rose_.

She had said she didn't know why the man hadn't appeared before, and it was true ... but she had a suspicion, something she had discussed with Ron long ago. Then, they didn't have any proof, but now ...

_He saved me when I was pregnant. He saved me from a miscarriage. He saved Rose's life ... and then he disappeared, and when does he appear again? When I'm in danger once more. And what does he tell me? 'Protect Rose.'_

Hermione continued to stare at her daughter.

"Is there something about you I don't know, Rosie?" Hermione asked. "Are you — are you destined to destroy Sbalkal, or something like that?"

She felt a shiver run down her spine. That thought was terrifying. Not just because it would mean that Sbalkal would be at large for years to come, but, mainly, because she didn't want her daughter to be another 'Chosen One.' No, she didn't want her daughter to spend her childhood and teenage years fighting like Harry, Ron, and she had. She had fought — _they_ had fought so their children could live in a better, kinder and more tolerant world. She didn't want to raise a soldier.

However, Sbalkal had declared that his interest in Rose was due to the fact that she was Ron's daughter. But then, why did the mysterious man seem to be protecting Rose? Was there something in Ron and Rose? Was this thing, whatever it was, the reason Ron had left that day? But, even if it was, why hadn't he told her something? Why hadn't he explained?

A knock on the door drew her out of her thoughts. She looked at the door and said, "Come in."

The door opened, and her parents walked in, both looking very worried.

"Hermione, are you all right?" her father asked, striding towards her and enveloping her in a tight hug.

"I am fine, Dad."

"Your mother told me everything. All those deaths ... the Minister murdered ... God, Hermione, this is becoming too much."

"I know."

No one said anything for a moment, and Hermione saw her parents exchange a look. She knew what they were going to say, but waited for them to say it.

"You ... you've got news about Ron."

"I'd hardly call it 'news,'" responded Hermione. "That man just told me he is all right — I haven't even got proof that it is true."

"He saved your life," her mother pointed out.

"But I don't know why," Hermione replied, and looked at Rose. "He obviously knows what Sbalkal is, and has got a better chance of stopping him than we do, but he hadn't done anything 'til now. I don't know if we can really trust him."

Neither her mother nor her father seemed to know what to say.

"Harry was back when we came up," said her mother after a few moments. "He brought George, Bill and Neville's girlfriend. Hannah, isn't it?"

"Yes," nodded Hermione. "We should go down, then."

Her parents nodded, and, after checking Rose one last time, they headed downstairs.

The living room was bursting with people, though all of them looked gloomy and were talking in low voices. Andromeda was there, talking to Ginny, while Teddy was in one corner, playing with Victoire. Audrey was sitting next to her father, and, near the front door, George and Angelina were talking to her parents. Hermione looked at Neville, who had regained consciousness. Hannah was sitting next to him, watching him with evident concern.

"Ah, Hermione," said Harry after seeing her. "We were talking about what happened."

"Losing Kingsley is a hard blow to the Ministry," commented Mr Weasley, a very dejected expression on his face. "I think we should go there and try to put some order. This is going to be a chaos. And we'll need to take care of the bodies of the people who were killed in the conference room."

"I don't think that is a very wise idea," Hermione interjected.

"Why not?" Mr Weasley asked.

"The mysterious man told us that we should hide and that there's nothing we can do. And I think he's right. We cannot stop Sbalkal."

"But someone must take care of things!" exclaimed Neville. "If we let him create havoc —"

"He doesn't want to create havoc," interrupted Hermione. "You heard him. He wants absolute power, to rule over all of us, wizards and Muggles. He's going to seize control of everything, and how can we stop him? Curses? Hexes?"

"Hermione, you're not usually this pessimist," said Harry.

"I'm not being a pessimist, but a realist. You were there, Harry. You had almost two hundred Aurors at your command, and what good did that do? We're lucky for having made it out alive. Nobody could do anything against him in the trial, and today he said he was even more powerful ..."

"So you suggest we let him do as he pleases?" Bill asked her.

"I don't know," Hermione answered sincerely. "Acceptance or death, those were his words. And I've got a daughter to take care of. That's my number one priority."

"And I agree with you," Mrs Weasley said. "Arthur, you can't go to the Ministry. Send owls, or Patronuses, or anything else — but don't go there." Her eyes became bright with tears. "We lost Fred, and we don't know where Ron is. I don't want to cry over anyone else."

Harry walked around, clearly furious, and hit the wall with his closed fist. "Shit!" he swore.

"'Arry, there are children in the room!" Fleur admonished him.

"Sorry," he replied automatically, clearly not feeling sorry at all.

Hermione stared at him, knowing that the impotence he felt was eating him alive. How many times had he complained about the fact that people were doing nothing during the last war? And now that he was in charge, or one of those in charge, he was being forced to hide.

"We can't just _hide_," he tried to convince the others. "He will subjugate everything and everyone. And soon there won't be a place to hide. If we let him take over, what will we do then?"

"Surely he won't be able to do that so easily!" said Ginny. Harry stared at her.

"I'd have agreed with you before seeing what he did to Azkaban and what happened today."

"But if he can win against the entire world, what difference would we make? It is not as if we had a weapon nobody else has!" reasoned Ginny.

Harry grunted, but said nothing. He didn't have an answer to that.

— — o — —

The arrangements continued during the whole day. The Burrow, Grimmauld Place and other safe houses hidden under the _Fidelius _Charm were now crowded. Meanwhile, Harry, Neville, Percy and Mr Weasley had managed to contact other people, Aurors and other staff of the Ministry, and the news they had got wasn't good. Some members of the Wizengamot had disappeared, and, except for Harry, Percy and a few others, the highest-ranking officials of the Ministry seemed to have been wiped out, Pamwyck included. The Ministry was now in total anarchy.

However, Artemius Pye and Aldus Humpton, along a few others, at last had managed to conceal the secret premises where the meeting of the ICW had taken place. They had gone back there and had found out that both Sbalkal and his mysterious enemy were no longer in the edifice. The building was burning and crumbling, but they had managed to conceal the secret premises under it before the Muggle Fire Department and the police had arrived. Then, they had retrieved the bodies of all the dead, which consisted of twenty-nine people, Kingsley included. Afterwards, both Aurors had told Harry that, as he was the Head of the office and Pamwyck was nowhere to be found, they considered him the highest authority at the Ministry, and that they — and every other Auror they had talked to — would follow him and obey his instructions. Harry had felt very grateful, but also uneasy about it. Seeing as he had opposed Sbalkal at the meeting, he reckoned that allegiance to him could be very dangerous.

After telling everyone at The Burrow about the disappearance of officials and what they had discovered, everyone had agreed that it seemed that Sbalkal was really going to try and seize control of the Ministry. The only thing they could do was gather as many people as possible and create a 'second Ministry' to oppose him.

So Harry had met with the Aurors again, and had made them promise they would be careful and that, if the worst happened, they wouldn't defy Sbalkal directly.

Hermione knew how much that sickened Harry, accepting Sbalkal's victory even before it had happened. But it was evident that, if he tried, no one could really stop him, and, as he had clearly showed that he didn't mind killing them all if they refused to obey him, they didn't have another choice. Even organising a resistance group like they were doing was very dangerous. They were protected by a _Fidelius _Charm, yes, but, would that be enough? Certainly, no one had ever broken such a charm without the Secret Keeper revealing the secret, but it was also true that they had never faced someone as powerful and terrible as Sbalkal.

The worst thing was that the public didn't know anything of what was happening. There had been journalists at the meeting, but would that be enough? Harry had said that what had happened should be revealed, so everyone could be ready. At least, people would not be lied to about Kingsley's death, like had happened when Scrimgeour had been murdered.

So Ginny had managed to contact some of her workmates at the_ Prophet_, and they had told them what had happened and what Sbalkal's intentions were.

And so, the next day, _The Daily Prophet_ had published an extensive article about the meeting, Sbalkal's actions, and his threat. Some of the people now in hiding had gone out, to Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, to see what people were saying and how they were reacting, and the unanimous report was that everyone was shocked and utterly scared. Some people at the Three Broomsticks had even declared that they were thinking about leaving the country, though that was hardly a solution, as Sbalkal had threatened the entire world, not only Britain.

Hermione was awakened, on Monday morning, by Rose, who was wailing in hunger, so she got out of the bed, took her in her arms and began to breastfeed her, trying to focus solely on her and not to think about what was happening, though it was rather difficult. She should have been up a while earlier if she had had to go to work, but, of course, she didn't. She began to think about Ron once more, feeling sadness and disappointment sink into her once more. She had stayed awake until late, the night before, trying again every Finding Charm, Locator Charm and Trace Spell she knew, as she had done dozens of times before, but — like all those other times — they hadn't worked. And if the mysterious man was right and Ron was fine, then it was clear that he didn't want to be found and had taken all means to make sure he wasn't. This made Hermione sad and angry at the same time, both feelings battling for dominance.

When Rose had finished, she put her back on the cot and began dressing to go down for breakfast. She was almost finished when she heard a furious yell from downstairs. Scared, she took Rose in her arms and hurried down the stairs, to the living room and the cramped kitchen, where Harry had _The Daily Prophet_ in his hands.

"What?" she asked, gazing around quizzically. "What's happened?"

"Look at this!" Harry said, and closed the newspaper and showed her the front page, where a big photograph of Sbalkal could be seen.

"What does it say?" she asked. Harry turned the newspaper and started to read.

INTERVIEW WITH LORD SBALKAL:

THE BEGINNING OF A NEW ERA

_The 13__rd __August, 2006, will be forever remembered as the day a new era, and a new order, began. After all the rumours spreading throughout the Wizarding world, Supreme Leader Lord Sbalkal —_

"WHAT!?" exclaimed Hermione, astounded.

"Wait and you'll see," Harry said darkly, and continued reading.

_After all the rumours spreading throughout the Wizarding world, Supreme Leader Lord Sbalkal has decided to come and explain, so the nation understands what is happening and what it means that he assumes his rightful position as ruler of our world._

"'_Rightful position'?_" repeated Hermione, livid. "Who wrote that? _The Prophet_ wrote an article against Sbalkal yesterday!"

"Well, if he went there and threatened them, there's nothing they could have done, is there?" said Percy grimly.

"I suppose not," admitted Hermione.

Harry resumed reading.

"_Lord Sbalkal, the citizenry wants to know about you: who are you, and what are your plans. Could you answer those questions?"_

"_Everyone knows me already. Yesterday, this very newspaper published an article explaining what had happened at the meeting of the International Confederation of Wizards and the horrible crimes I committed."_

"_Our readers must know, I think, that the employees responsible for that article no longer work here, the former editor included."_

Hermione looked at Ginny; she looked thoughtful, sad and worried.

"_But they're not the instigators. It's obvious that Harry Potter and his friends are behind it. Anyway, the article, though truthful, didn't focus on the truly important event that took place at the meeting. And what event is that? Well, of course, I declared myself ruler of the world and officially took over every Wizarding country on Earth._

"_Did I commit those crimes stated in the article? Well, what's a crime, for starters? Just the violation of a law. But laws are written and imposed by those who rule. So, as I now rule, talking about crimes makes no sense._

"_There won't be any more struggles for power. There won't be any more war, neither between Wizards, Muggles nor any other race. Today, my people, whom I released from Azkaban, will take over the main positions at the Ministry. But don't worry, the role of the Ministry will be severely diminished. And don't fear them because their past crimes don't matter anymore. There won't be persecution based on race, beliefs or parentage ever again. Those questions have no importance at all._

"_The only thing that matters is that I'll rule over everything and everyone, and I shall do so forever. There's no way to stop me, and no way to defeat me, so, trying to defy me would not be valiant, but foolish and stupid. The only thing you've got to fear henceforth is disobedience. Disobey me, and you're finished._

"_A new era begins, and there's no way back. Fighting is pointless. The only choice you've got is acceptance." _

Harry stopped reading and threw the newspaper to the floor, disgusted. A gloomy silence fell over the house.

"People won't allow this to happen," George said. "Not this time. Especially, when this monster is not disguising his intentions in any way."

"He doesn't need to," Hermione said. "That whole speech only says one thing: acceptance or death. It's what he said at the meeting. He doesn't fear opposition. In fact, he doesn't care about it. He believes himself far above us, so he'll simply wipe out anyone that tries to defy him. Though —" There was something odd there, but she couldn't grasp what, and she fell silent, biting her lower lip.

"We should try and find out what's happening at the Ministry," Mr Weasley said.

"NO!" Mrs Weasley shouted, giving everyone a fright. "No, Arthur! If he's really there, you can't go!"

"But we must know what's happening," Bill interjected. "We can't remain uninformed."

"We should wait," Hermione argued. "We managed to get a good network of informers. We need information first."

She saw Harry clench his teeth, and without finishing his breakfast, he stormed out of the kitchen.

"Harry!" Ginny yelled after him. She stood up and walked out of the kitchen, too.

Hermione wasn't feeling hungry, either, so she, too, left the crowded room, with the intention of going upstairs and staying alone with Rose for a while.

As she passed by the living room, she saw Harry sitting on the couch and staring at the fire. Ginny had sat down beside him and had her left hand on his right shoulder.

"Harry ..." Hermione heard the other girl say.

"I feel like a coward," Harry muttered. Hermione was heading towards the stairs silently, but she stopped dead when she heard Harry's words.

"You're as far from a coward as it is possible to be," Ginny said vehemently. "Don't ever think that."

"I am sitting here, while people in the Ministry, _people I know_, are risking their lives ... maybe even losing them."

"You can't do anything to prevent that," Ginny said. She raised her gaze and looked at Hermione. "Don't you think so?"

Harry looked at Ginny, furrowing his brow.

"Eh? What —? Ah, Hermione."

"You're not a coward, Harry," Hermione said. "We weren't cowards when we hid for all those months when Voldemort seized power. We just waited for the right moment to fight. And this is not the right moment to fight."

"And when will it be?" Harry asked. "The other time, we had a plan, something to do. We had the Horcruxes to find and destroy. What have we got this time, eh?"

"I don't know," Hermione admitted.

Harry palmed the cushion next to him several times, and Hermione, getting the hint, sat down there. Harry looked at Rose and smiled at her.

"I want our children to live in a free world," he said.

"We all want that."

They stayed there for a long time, just sitting, relishing in the comfort they gave one another. After a while, Harry and Ginny began a chess match, but Hermione didn't pay them any attention. Her mind was focused in something else.

"What are you thinking about?" Harry asked her a few minutes later. Hermione shook her head, a bit startled. Ginny had already checkmated Harry.

"I'm thinking about that interview in _The Prophet_."

Harry grunted.

"I mean," Hermione continued, "Sbalkal is mysterious; we know that. We don't understand his power. When he attacked our house, the day he left that letter, and the day we 'captured' him, he was using a wand. But he hasn't used another ever since. He seems not to need it. So I assume that, previously, he was just playing with us. There's a lot we don't know, but I think we know something about the way he acts."

"What has all this got to do with the interview?"

"_Nothing_," answered Hermione. "And that's it, isn't it? That interview ... makes no sense at all. Why did he do it?"

"To present himself as supreme ruler," said Harry angrily.

"Maybe," said Hermione, "but he had done that. The article about the meeting covered that part. This interview ... I don't know, I've just got an odd feeling about it. I can't explain it."

"I think nothing feels normal when it comes to him," commented Ginny. "Why did he steal that brain and the archway?"

"The archway is known as 'the gate of Death,'" said Hermione. "The Unspeakables reckon he could use it as a weapon, though they don't know how. But the brain ... Nobody knows which brain he took, since he destroyed the others. And they've got no clue as to why he could want any of them to start with."

"Ron was attacked by one of those," said Harry.

"I know," Hermione nodded. "I've already thought about that. You know I asked the Unspeakables, and they told me there's nothing special about them. Ron was wounded by them, yes, but he was healed. Those wounds leave no sequels, except the scars. Other people have suffered accidents when handling the brains, too, and nothing happened to them. Nothing we know suggests there might be a connection.

"Maybe Sbalkal knows more," Harry said. "I mean, he seems to know much more than any of us. The seizure Ron's suffered ... we don't know what happened to him."

"No, we don't," said Hermione, nodding. "I've thought about that a lot, Harry. But I'm completely lost. Nothing makes sense. There's so much we don't know. Why is he interested in Rose? Why is that man protecting her? And now, we're here, trapped, with no means to research. Though, so far, research on this has led us nowhere, so I don't think that matters."

They fell silent, and Hermione looked at Rose

"I've got to change her," she commented, smelling her.

She got up, and was beginning to climb the stairs when she heard George said, "Who's that?"

Hermione wheeled around, and saw him looking out of the window. Harry jumped off the couch and ran towards him.

"It's Aldus Humpton, one of the Aurors allowed to come here."

Hermione went back to the living room while Harry opened the door and invited Humpton in. The first thing Hermione noticed when he saw him was that he looked awful.

"What?" Harry asked him. "What happened?" he asked when he closed the door.

"It's over," Humpton said. "Sbalkal and the escaped prisoners Apparated in the middle of the Atrium while everyone was there, wondering what to do or whose instructions to follow. He declared that he was in charge now, and named some of the Death Eaters Heads of departments. As you advised us, Potter, we didn't do anything to confront him, and nobody else did. Everyone was scared to death."

Harry nodded. "If you had done anything, you'd probably be dead right now."

"What does he want? What has he ordered so far?" asked Percy, who, like every other person in the house, had now gathered in the living room.

"Taking over Muggle Britain and the rest of Wizarding countries seem to be the priorities now."

"What about us?" Hermione wanted to know. "The ones who didn't go to work?"

"Anyone who wasn't at their post is fired," Humpton responded. He looked at Harry. "Not everyone is displeased with this, Potter. Wilson, for starters. He is now the Head of the Auror Office."

"What?" asked Hermione. "I mean, he doesn't get along with Harry, but — siding with Sbalkal —"

"There are always people ready to take any opportunity to get promoted, or gain more power," Harry told her with bitterness in his voice. "It was like that when Voldemort took over, and it will be that way now, too. Wilson never liked the changes Ron and I made."

"Anyone who didn't come to their posts also must now be imprisoned by us," Humpton said. "If I tell you the truth, I don't think any of us will have our jobs for very long. Wilson knows how close we were to you and Ron, and you know him, he'll be eager to please the new bosses."

"But he won't imprison all his workmates!" protested Hermione. "He fought Sbalkal's men after the trial! He can't be that evil!"

"Maybe not before," Mr Weasley said, cleaning his glasses. "But perhaps, now that he feels reassured, and now that he has the authorities on his side, he will. I saw it the other time," he continued. "People you would have sworn were honest and kind did terrible things just because there was nothing restraining them. Some people seem to rely on what they consider authority to dictate their morals, so they may be all right under the right circumstances and cruel under the wrong ones."

"And Wilson had no problem crashing Bill and Fleur's wedding back then," Harry added. "He won't have any problem now, either."

Fleur frowned.

"I must go back now," Humpton said. "I'll contact you as soon as I can."

"Thank you, Aldus," said Harry. "Take care."

Aldus nodded and moved to the door. But, before opening it, he seemed to remember something and turned round.

"Don't use the Floo Network," he warned them. "It is monitored, and even if you travel between houses under the _Fidelius _Charm you will be captured. Avoid it."

"We will," Mr Weasley said. "Thank you."

Humpton nodded again and then left.

"What are we going to do?" Percy asked. "We're outlaws now."

"I don't think there's anything we can do," Bill answered. "We don't have a weapon powerful enough to beat him."

Hermione looked at Rose, who was gazing around curiously, ignorant of what was happening in the world, and then she laid her eyes on Harry, who was staring at the floor, deep in thought. He lifted his head and looked at her.

"Maybe we have," he said. "Maybe we have ..."

* * *

_Next chapter, on Monday or Tuesday. Have a good weekend._


	22. The Elder Wand

_Well, sorry for the little delay, yesterday was an hectic day._

_Here it is chapter 22. Thanks to __**Kathy**__ for her help!_

* * *

**PART II**

**TALES OF OLD SECRETS**

_**Chapter 22**_

**The Elder Wand**

* * *

_2__nd__ May, 1998_

The first rays of the sun were entering the castle through the broken windows and the numerous cracks on the stone walls. In the Great Hall, hundreds of people were celebrating the end of the war, the downfall of Lord Voldemort, and the victory of Harry Potter over him. Wizards, witches, house elves, centaurs, ghosts and even a giant were cheering and laughing, as well as crying and mourning those who hadn't lived to see the new day.

None of them knew that someone else, who hadn't taken part in the battle but had spent the entire night observing it, was there in the corridors full of debris, dust and wrecked furniture; that someone had waited all night for this moment.

Sbalkal walked slowly along the deserted hallways, and, through a side door, entered the empty room in which Tom Riddle's corpse had been placed. He felt tired. He had done so much that night. He had to take the piece in the cup, the diadem, the snake and Harry Potter, and, though Voldemort's soul was so decayed and weak, it was costing him a bit to assimilate it. It was too much for a single night, and he hadn't finished.

He stopped for a moment, smiled at the sight, and then, slowly, made his way towards the body, at which he looked disdainfully.

"Hi, Tom," he said, and then crouched down next to him. He let out a snort. "Look at yourself, at the way you've ended up. You, who thought you were on the path to immortality, and who believed that destiny had picked you up for greatness, finished. No, Tom, your destiny has always been this, to lie here at my feet."

Sbalkal closed his eyes and searched for what he was seeking, the reason of his presence there. And he found it, lost and scared and so diminished and damaged that it could barely be a human soul, trapped in a world that it could not leave, because it was bound to the rest of the pieces, now attached to Sbalkal's soul. But this time it wasn't like sixteen years ago. This time the soul was too weak, and the rest of the pieces were no longer free. It neither could leave the world, nor could exist as a shadow of a living being.

"You're defeated," he continued. "But don't be surprised, because, since the very moment you were born, you were intended to end up like this. Did you seriously believe you could live forever by making Horcruxes? By splitting your soul and damaging it in such a way?" He lowered the tone of his voice. "I'll tell you a secret, Tom: you can't live forever by damaging and splitting you soul. The secret of an eternal life is a very strong soul, not a weak one. You would end up dying, Tom, even if you had won today. Your body would keep corrupting and decaying. And even if you managed to prevent that with your powerful magic, your soul would get tired and tired, and one day you'd just ... explode. The Horcruxes would have decayed as well, and you'd end up dead.

"But thanks to me, you won't die. Those people in the Great Hall think you're dead, but you aren't. They think that when they destroyed the Horcruxes, the pieces of soul vanished. Fools. Souls can't vanish. I took them into myself, and so you're now bound to me. Of course, you didn't know. You willingly tore your soul apart, you purposely maimed it, and so you can no longer feel your attachment to the other pieces. And soon you won't control the last bit, either. You'll live, though I'm sure you soon will prefer to be dead.

"When I started this, I hoped you would resist a bit longer, I have to admit. So yes, I'm a bit disappointed, but well, I think you'll be very useful to me. Your soul will make me stronger, and I'll be closer to my objective." He laughed mirthlessly for a few seconds. "It is curious, don't you think? You've been working for me all your life and you never knew. All your grand schemes and your ideas of greatness ... it was all for nothing. In the end, you were just another pawn, a piece to be used and then sacrificed.

"Anyway, this doesn't matter now — at least, not to you. We've talked enough. It is time for me to harvest the fruits of what I sowed."

Sbalkal closed his eyes and focused on the lost soul trapped between life and death. He brought it to him, and subjugated it, and attached the _container_ of the soul, that part that had been broken into eight pieces, to his soul. He felt it fight, but it was too weak to resist Sbalkal's power. It would be difficult, and would take time, but he would dominate it completely, and then it would serve as a temporary substitute to his lost part. It would increase his power and let him continue with his plan.

And while that happened, the core of Voldemort's soul, the part that was Lord Voldemort himself, that kept his memories and personality, would remain, unable to leave this world, to see, or to feel nothing but darkness. It would endure an eternity of half-existence, but Sbalkal didn't mind. Lord Voldemort had been just a means to an end, just a mortal among many others. Nobody would miss him.

Despite the battle taking place in his soul, a battle he knew he would win, Sbalkal smiled. Now he was closer, closer than ever. And thinking about that, he felt the anticipation, the desire to be again what he once had been. He was a patient being, but it had been too long. Too long ...

He sat on the stone floor, weakened by the effort to absorb and assimilate a soul. He rested there for a few minutes.

His tested his senses, which had sharpened since he had assimilated the first piece of soul, five years ago. He felt the people in the Great Hall: the happiness, the sadness, the joy, and the sorrow. Everything felt a bit _blurry_, but it was normal. When the battle with the soul ended, he would feel much better. He was about to get to his feet when he felt it again. The presence. That presence he had felt for the first time many years ago, that presence that concealed itself, that could sometimes be perceived and yet never reached. And how that worried him! He knew that he would have Anwar as an enemy, though Anwar was too weakened to be a real threat to him. But this new person? Who was he? Where had he come from? He had been sure, for a long time, that he and Anwar were the last, and now ... this. Was he an enemy? And if he was, why hadn't he attacked him, before he could become more powerful? He was an unknown and unpredictable variable, and Sbalkal hated that. He hated not controlling, not knowing something. It was the most horrible sensation he could experience.

_Who are you?_ he asked._ Reveal yourself. Where did you come from? What do you want? Tell me!_ he ordered.

Silence was the only reply.

Sbalkal felt a sudden anger grow inside him, something rather strange, because he always kept his composure. But this irritated him, the possibility or an unknown menace that could thwart him now that he was so close ...

He stood up. It was time to leave, but, before doing so, he focused his attention on the Great Hall and the people inside it.

There was Harry Potter, talking to some people, happy and yet almost exhausted, wanting nothing else but to leave, eat something and go to sleep.

There were Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, sitting on a bench very closely, barely talking, their hands intertwined —

Sbalkal frowned. There was _something_ there, but what? He concentrated on it and studied him. Yes, there was something there, but, why couldn't he see what it was? It was something familiar, and yet he couldn't get its true nature. There was this barrier that prevented him from discovering the truth, and once more he cursed his current state, because in the old times this wouldn't be a secret, not for long.

Could it be that —? No, it couldn't ... or could it? If it was ...

He frowned. He had put this plan in motion decades ago. He had waited for so long. And now, when he was so close, two unpredictable variables? He needed to know for sure. He needed information. He focused on him and concentrated on the most visible trait in his soul: the bond he shared with Hermione Granger.

The boy was in love, completely smitten. Despite the sadness he felt for the loss of his brother, that love shone like the sun in a bright day. He would do anything for the girl. Anything.

Still frowning, he walked out of the room and, through one of the windows, jumped out of the castle and onto the grounds. He was in no state to teleport himself to another place.

This had turned out to be a far more interesting night than he had predicted. He needed to rethink his plan.

— — o — —

Hermione stared at Harry, wide-eyed.

"You can't be thinking of —"

"I am," Harry cut her off.

"But — Harry, it is — you can't!" Hermione argued hotly. "I believe you thought it was dangerous! And besides, retrieving it would be a desecration! You won't be able to do it!"

"Do you think I like the idea?" Harry said bitterly. "If you see another solution, Hermione, tell me, and I'll be glad to give it a try!"

"What the hell are you two talking about?" George asked.

"About the Elder Wand," Ginny answered. "It's that, isn't it?"

"The Elder Wand?" George seemed confused. "You mean that wand you took from Voldemort?"

"Yes, that wand."

"Didn't you put it back in Dumbledore's tomb?" Bill asked him.

"He did," Hermione said. "And taking it back would be — would —"

"— Would be better than watching Sbalkal rule the world!" Harry snapped.

Hermione waited a few seconds before replying. "To tell you the truth, Harry, I'm not sure the wand is going to be enough to stop him."

"We're talking about the unbeatable wand!"

"Oh, come on, Harry!" Hermione said, a bit annoyed. "Dumbledore beat Grindelwald, didn't he? And besides, Sbalkal doesn't even use a wand."

"Anyway, I can't live with myself if I don't try."

Hermione sighed. "Let's wait for a while, okay?" she suggested. "At least until we know how things are going."

"Okay," accepted Harry, "but I'm going to retrieve it today. We don't know what's going to happen to Hogwarts. What if they close it?"

"That's true," Bill said. "How do you plan on doing it?"

"I'm just going there," said Harry.

"You can't go alone!" Ginny exclaimed.

"I'll accompany him," offered Bill.

"Me too," George and Angelina said at the same time.

"Count me in as well," said Hermione.

"No, you're not coming," Harry told her. Hermione scowled at him.

"You don't tell me what to do, Harry!"

"Hermione, you've got a daughter to take care of!"

"Oh, and you haven't got children, have you?"

"Yes, but I've got to go! I am the master of the Elder Wand! And even if — even —"

"NO!" Ginny yelled fiercely. "Don't go that way, Harry."

Harry looked at the floor, but he didn't shut up.

"Even if something happened to me, James would still have Ginny," he said in a low, sad voice.

Hermione felt as if Harry had slapped her in the face. Struggling to keep the tears from spilling, she turned round and went up to her room. Once there, she sat on the bed, Rose still in her arms, and finally allowed the tears to run down her cheeks. It hurt not only having Harry tell her that he didn't want her to help him, but, especially, the — in her opinion — harsh way in which he had reminded her that she was alone.

She stayed there, just watching Rose, for she didn't know how long. It could have been ten minutes or half an hour, she couldn't tell, when someone knocked at the door.

"Leave me alone!" she shouted at it.

The door opened, and Hermione raised her gaze to look at it, a scowl on her face.

"Didn't I — Oh, it's you," she said, seeing Harry in the doorway. "Leave me alone, Harry. Go to Hogwarts. Run. You're wasting time when you could be playing the part of the hero."

"Hermione, that's not fair."

"Nothing is fair," she replied. "Please go."

Harry closed the door, but he didn't leave. He approached her and sat down next to her.

"Have you gone deaf?" she asked him, annoyed. "I told you to leave!"

"I'm sorry for what I said. I'm a prat."

Hermione didn't say anything.

"But you know I am right, Hermione. You said yourself that protecting Rose was your number one priority."

"I know I said that," Hermione replied. "It's just that — we've always been together when these things have happened."

"Hermione, I've done plenty of things these last years, and you were not with me."

"But Ron was."

Harry stared at her. Then he cupped her chin and made her look at him.

"Is that what this all is about? You want to be there to make up for Ron's absence?"

"Either he, or I, or both, have always been at your side, Harry. I'm — I won't feel at ease if that changes. Maybe I'm being stupid."

Harry pulled her against him and embraced her.

"You aren't. And I'll never be grateful enough for all those occasions, Hermione. But right now it is Rose who needs you the most."

"I know."

"I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's all right; don't worry."

"No, it isn't," Harry replied. "I acted like a git, and I'm sorry. This situation ... I feel impotent, and I hate it."

"I'm fine, seriously."

"I went to Grimmauld Place," Harry told her. "I talked to Neville. As far as he knows, there isn't news concerning Hogwarts. I suppose it is safe for now, so, if you want to come, you can."

Hermione nodded.

"But you'll be behind me all the time," he told her. "And if I tell you to flee, you'll do it, okay?"

"Okay."

"I mean it, Hermione."

She looked into his eyes. "I promise. Is that enough?"

"It'll have to be. Let's go, then. Neville's downstairs. He's coming, too."

She put Rose into her cot and cast the charms around her. Then, the two friends made their way downstairs, where Neville, Bill, Angelina and George were ready and waiting.

"Hi, Neville," Hermione greeted him with a smile. "How are you?"

Neville shrugged. "I could be worse, I suppose," he answered. "You're coming to Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes."

"You're going?" her mother asked her, a trace of disbelief in her voice.

"I'm going. Rose is in her cot. Watch her for me, okay? We'll be back soon."

"Hermione, you know your father and I trust your judgement," her mother said, serious and a bit disappointed, "but this is a mistake."

"Mum —"

"I know how important this is, and that you want to be a part of it, but you shouldn't go."

"I agree with that," Mrs Weasley interjected.

"We'll take care of her," Neville told them. "She'll be back to Rose and you."

"I'm not a lady in distress!" Hermione shouted at them. "I could beat most of you in a duel, so stop patronising me!"

Her mother didn't seem affected by her outburst.

"You're of age," she told Hermione, not looking at her. "If you think you must go, then go."

"We'd better go," said Harry, who looked eager to escape the tension in the house. "We'll be back soon."

Ginny kissed him and told him to take care, and Fleur did the same to Bill. Then, the six of them left The Burrow and Apparated to a hill near Hogwarts. Harry and Neville had decided that Apparating just in front of the gates would be unwise.

The moment they materialised there, they crouched down. It was practically impossible for someone at Hogwarts to spot them, and the hill was far from Hogsmeade, but one never could be careful enough.

Hermione observed the castle and the grounds. The entire place looked deserted, except for the smoke coming off the chimney on Hagrid's hut.

"It doesn't seem watched at all," Harry commented.

"It looks so empty," added Hermione. She had never seen the castle during summer.

"Well, it's August," George piped in. "I suppose no one is there except Hagrid and Filch."

"We can go, then," Harry said.

Holding one another's hands, they Disapparated once more and Apparated in front of the iron gates. Neville broke free of the others and, looking around, he approached the gates and tried to open them, which he managed to do without any problem.

"We can go in," he said.

With their wands out and ready, the six entered the grounds and closed the gates behind them. Then, wary and alert, they hurried towards Hagrid's hut along the limits of the Forbidden Forest. They were almost there when the door opened and Hagrid, looking wary, too, came out, his umbrella ready in his hand.

"Harry? Neville? Hermione?" he said, when he recognised them. "What're you doin' here?"

"Hagrid," Harry said, obviously happy at seeing his old friend. "Do you know what's happened at the Ministry?"

"O' course I do," Hagrid muttered. "Read it in the _Prophet_. Been watchin' the castle all mornin' — in case anyone tried ter get here. And I have ter say I'm glad you're all righ'. I didn' know what had happened ter any o' yeh!"

"We are all right, Hagrid, but things are bad, very bad."

"Yeh don' have ter tell me," Hagrid replied. "I had a bad feelin' about all this."

"Nobody has come here, then?" Neville asked.

"No," Hagrid responded, shaking his head. "I'm not sure if I can watch Hogwarts turn into a Dark Arts school, like last time."

"Neither am I," added Neville.

"You haven' told me yet; what're yeh doing here?"

"Trying to make sure your fears don't become true," Harry answered. "We can't beat Sbalkal, Hagrid. Not without a powerful weapon. And we've come to retrieve that weapon."

"A weapon?" Hagrid asked, confused. "What do yeh mean? There's no weapon here."

"The Elder Wand, Hagrid," Harry explained. "Dumbledore's wand."

Hagrid's eyes opened widely.

"Oh. But — isn' it inside his tomb?"

"It is."

"Harry —"

"I know, I know!" Harry exclaimed, turning round and raking his fingers through his hair. "I don't like it, either, but we don't know what else to do."

"I understand," Hagrid said, nodding, and then sighed. "I reckon Dumbledore won' mind, in a situation like this."

"Will you keep watch?" Harry asked the others. "I prefer to do this alone — Well, I need Hermione."

Hermione stared at him and nodded.

"We'll keep watch, don't worry," Angelina said.

Harry began to walk towards the lake and the white tomb, and Hermione walked along with him. At some point, he grabbed her hand, and she squeezed it reassuringly, their previous row already forgotten.

They stopped four or five feet from the tomb. Harry released her hand, and she looked at him. He had a very sad expression on his face. Then, he turned his head away from her, towards the school.

"I hate this," he said suddenly. "I didn't want to use this wand ever again." He sighed once more and turned again, to look at the tomb. "I'm sorry, Professor." Harry pointed his wand at the tomb and muttered, "_Diffindo!_"

The tomb split open for the second time, revealing Dumbledore perfectly conserved body, with the Elder Wand lying on his chest, where Harry himself had left it eight years ago. He stared at it.

"Take it, Harry," Hermione encouraged him.

Harry didn't make any indication of having heard her, but, after a few seconds, he put his old wand in his pocket and then took the Elder Wand from the tomb. Rejoicing in being in the hand of his master once more, red sparks flew from the wand's tip. Then, he pointed it at the tomb and said, "_Reparo!_"

And the tomb resealed itself, as if nothing had happened.

"Let's go back," Hermione suggested. "I feel ... exposed."

"Yeah, let's go," Harry agreed.

They began to walk back towards Hagrid's hut, feeling, despite how necessary what they had done was, that they had committed a crime and that had desecrated something holy.

"Have you got it?" Bill asked Harry.

Harry nodded. "Yes, we can go back." He looked at Hagrid. "Hagrid, maybe you should come with us."

"Nah," Hagrid said, shaking his head. "Hogwart's my home, and I won' leave it if I can avoid it. I didn' when You-Know-Who took over, and won't now."

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked him.

"Completely," Hagrid assured them.

"Take care, then," Harry told him.

"Yeh too," Hagrid told them. "I'll make a visit soon. I wanna see how big little Rosie's getting."

Hermione smiled fondly at her old friend, and then, with a last goodbye, they left the grounds and Apparated back to The Burrow.

— — o — —

The next days passed slowly, hours apparently stretching into days while the inhabitants of The Burrow simply waited for something to happen or for more news to come. Hermione had expected that Sbalkal would put people near The Burrow to watch the place. Even if they would not be able to see it, maybe someone would make a mistake and could be caught before entering the protected area, just like the Death Eaters had done during the time Harry, Ron and she had spent at Grimmauld Place. However that hadn't happened. In fact, nothing she had expected to happen ever occurred.

For starters, there hadn't been a big change in the Ministry's policies. No one had decreed laws against Muggleborns or any other race or group. Only those who had gone into hiding and had left their positions at the Ministry were now sought, and every prisoner of the Ministry had been released. As it seemed, disobedience was now the only real crime. Sbalkal didn't seem to care about what happened at the Ministry, as long as everyone recognised him as Supreme Leader. He was letting his servants rule. Of course, it was possible that that was only temporary, and, once he had subjugated the entire world, the true oppression would begin.

Some Death Eaters, for example, had begun to use the power Sbalkal had given them. Two days after Harry had retrieved the Elder Wand, Neville had been summoned to a meeting of the Hogwarts Staff. It had been debated whether he should go or not, but, finally, he had gone because he hadn't left his post, so, in theory, he had nothing to fear. When he had come back, looking very furious, he had told everyone that the meeting had been conducted by the Carrows, who had been allowed, once more, to rule the school. McGonagall had been fired; Neville, on the other hand, hadn't, but he was no longer a Professor, but Hagrid's assistant and future replacement. The possibility of resigning didn't exist, and not being there on the first of September would mean prison. It was obvious to everyone that this was revenge for all the trouble Neville had caused them when he was a student.

This was the first sign that indicated that things were going to go downhill, so, after some deliberation, Harry had decided they should spend the next few days gathering more information and then have a new meeting where the next steps would be decided.

So there she was, sitting on a chair in the drawing room, at Grimmauld Place. When Harry had suggested they had the meeting there, because it was bigger and more people had access to it than to The Burrow, a feeling of dread had flooded her. She hadn't said anything then, but now she wished she had spoken about the advantages of The Burrow, because, as they waited for Percy to arrive, she couldn't help but remember the last time she had been here, with Ron, and how they had made love that night...

"Where are you?" Ginny, who was sitting next to her, asked.

Hermione turned her head to look at her.

"What do you mean? I'm right here."

"Your body, maybe," Ginny replied, "but not your mind."

"I was just thinking," Hermione responded vaguely.

"About Ron?"

Hermione looked down. She didn't want to talk about it, not at all, and she considered herself lucky when Percy walked into the room, drawing everyone's attention.

"Sorry for the delay," he said as a greeting, and dropped onto a chair. He looked very tired.

"Do you have interesting news?" Mr Weasley asked him.

"I do, but I'd rather have Harry speaking first."

Harry nodded and then stood up.

"I won't waste time speaking about how this mysterious man known as Sbalkal crashed the meeting of the ICW and took over the Ministry; you all know everything about that. For now, things aren't as bad as we could have expected, after the massacre he made at the meeting. Apart from imprisoning those who deserted their posts at the Ministry, no one had been killed. However, certain events make me believe that things won't be so calm for long. Hogwarts is going to be, once more, ruled by the Carrows, and, knowing them, Hogwarts won't be pleasant for students anymore. But Sbalkal is not paying much attention to the Ministry, because he is trying to take over the rest of Wizarding countries. From what our contacts in the Auror Department have told me, he had succeeded in several. And, of course, they're trying to conquer the Muggles governments of countries, too."

"I have news precisely about that," Percy interjected.

"What news?"

"I managed to talk to some of my other colleagues, and even people I knew from my time in the Department of International Magical Cooperation. They have now influence over the most important Muggle countries. And they have set up a meeting of the UN for next week."

"What's the UN?" Angelina asked.

"The United Nations," explained Percy. "It's like the International Confederation of Wizards for Muggles.

"As it seems, Sbalkal plans to appear there, reveal himself to the Muggles and seize control like he did here."

"Next week?" asked Harry, surprised. "If his plan works, he will have taken over the world very soon!"

"Yes," Percy said, nodding. "The Muggles won't stand a chance. They know nothing about Magic, so, when they see Sbalkal's powers —"

"Some will consider him sort of a god," Hermione commented. "He'll take over quickly."

"And what can we do to stop that from happening?" asked Angelina's mother. "If he's already got some countries in his grasp ..."

"We have to go after him," said Harry.

"Go after him?" repeated Mrs Weasley in disbelief.

"We know that he usually stays in a manor on the outskirts of London. Most of his Death Eaters are at the Ministry or in other countries doing his bidding. My suggestion is that we go after him there."

"But — after what you said he had done at the meeting of the ICW, how do you plan to stop him?" asked Parvati.

Harry looked down for a moment, avoiding the gazes focusing on him, and then pulled out the Elder Wand.

"I retrieved this a few days ago."

"Isn't that —?"

"— The Elder Wand, yeah," finished Harry. "The most powerful wand ever made. If I cannot defeat him with it, then I don't know what we can do."

Hermione looked at Ginny, who was silent, but watching Harry with an intense gaze, her eyes bright and filled with emotion; but whether it was pride or fear, Hermione wasn't sure. Probably, a mixture of the two.

"So you suggest we go after him?" Seamus asked. "Now?"

"I suggest we go after him, yeah," nodded Harry. "We cannot let him rule. We simply cannot."

"I'm going," Neville said.

"Me too," Hannah added.

"We can't all go," said Harry. "We don't even have a plan. We'll have to be sure he is there and that not too many Death Eaters are with him before we attack."

— — o — —

"It's the perfect moment," Neville said, having just walked into the Burrow. "He is at the manor. Dean heard some official at the Ministry say it, and we know where all the Death Eaters are except for four or five."

Harry nodded silently. It was time, then. They had spent the last three days preparing for this moment, discovering as much as possible about the manor where Sbalkal resided and waiting for the moment when it was less defended. And that moment seemed to be now.

"Let's not waste time," he said, and put his hand in one of his pockets, where the two wands were. No one said anything, and the silence seemed even solid. Harry knew perfectly well than not everyone agreed with his decision, but, what else could they do?

Across the room, his eyes met Ginny's brown ones. He took in her freckled skin and her long hair, which seemed to be on fire under the sun's light, and remembered that first time he had felt his lips against hers, all those years ago. He saw images of them making love, of their wedding day, of the day James had been born. All the images were transparent, and behind them, there were her eyes, fixed on his, conveying love and fear, telling him how brave he was for what he was about to do and yet asking him not to do it. And, for once, Harry truly wished he was a coward; he wished he could simply ignore what was happening and just embrace his wife and son and drown in their love.

But he couldn't. His eyes left Ginny's and roamed down her body, to her protuberant belly. What kind of world would his child be born into if he just ignored everything? Besides, Ginny couldn't go to a hospital right now. Yes, she could give birth at home, but what if something went wrong? None of them were healers.

Slowly, he walked towards her, and, now just a few inches apart, they continued gazing into each other's eyes.

"I would prefer to stay," he told her in a soft voice that was almost a whisper.

"I would prefer you didn't go," she answered, her voice firm but filled with emotion. He almost could feel the presence of a 'don't go' on the tip of her tongue.

"I've got to, and — well, maybe he knows something about Ron."

"Promise me you'll be careful; promise me you'll run away if something goes wrong," she asked, almost begging. And then she looked at Neville. "You too."

"I promise," Harry said.

"Me too," Neville added.

And then, suddenly, Ginny was kissing him, as passionately and desperately as that day, on his seventeenth birthday, and he relished in the kiss, in her taste, and in the feel of her lips against his and her tongue in his mouth; after about a minute they pulled apart, very reluctantly.

Unable to stand the look in her eyes for much longer, he turned to Mrs Weasley, who was holding James, and he caressed his face. The little child stared at him.

"Daddy loves you, Jamie," he told him, and, suddenly, the realisation that James was a year and half, just a little older than he had been when Voldemort had killed his parents, struck him. It wasn't a comforting thought.

"Da!" James hollered, moving his tiny hand to grab his bigger one. Harry smiled at him.

"You shouldn't go," Mrs Weasley told him, her eyes bright with tears. "Fred died and Ron has disappeared, Harry. I don't want to lose another son."

Harry felt so deeply touched by her words that he couldn't help but hug her. "I'll come back," he told her. "And if he knows where Ron is, I'll bring him back with me. I promise."

Mrs Weasley gave him a sad smile, and caressed his face. Harry looked once more at his son (how strange, but wonderful, that word sounded!), and kissed him on his forehead.

"I love you," he whispered to him. "So much."

Fighting a sudden need to cry, he turned round, and found himself in front of Hermione, who was eyeing him intensely, with Rose cradled in her arms. He approached her and saw her swallow with difficulty.

"Don't go," she blurted out.

"Hermione —"

"I've got a bad feeling, Harry. He doesn't use a wand. I think this is a mistake."

"Hermione, we cannot let him stay. If we do, we're doomed. At least this way we have a chance, attacking by surprise."

Hermione fell silent for a few seconds.

"I won't be with you this time," she told him, and Harry nodded. "Don't try to be a hero this time, Harry. Run if you've got to."

Harry nodded again, and looked at the floor, touched by how much all these people loved him.

"Don't die, please," Hermione added and, when he raised his gaze to look at her, he saw she was on the verge of tears. "_Please_," she repeated. "I couldn't stand lo — losing you t-too."

"I'll come back," he said, approaching her and putting a hand over her right one. He looked at Rose, who was now watching him with interest. "I won't leave her without her godfather."

He kissed Hermione on the cheek and then joined Neville at the door. Nobody else from the house was going to go. It had been decided that only Aurors and ex-Aurors would be allowed.

"I'll be back soon," he told everyone, and then, they turned round and left The Burrow. What he had said was true. Either the operation was quick and they win or — He shook his head; he wouldn't let himself think about _ors_.

Neville and he Disapparated to the spot where the other Aurors were hidden, watching Sbalkal's residence. The moment they Apparated, they found themselves facing three wands. Then, their owners recognised them and, relaxing, lowered them. They were Aldus Humpton, Artemius Pye and James Stockwood.

"Tell me what's going on," Harry told them, without even a greeting, and moved to take a look. The Aurors were hidden behind a thick bunch of trees from which the house could be perfectly seen.

It was a big, majestic Victorian manor, standing in the middle of a field with perfectly mown grass. Behind the manor was a beautiful garden, and the entire property was surrounded by a wall and trees. The bunch of trees that concealed them was just behind that wall. The house wasn't one in which he would have expected someone like Sbalkal to live.

"There are just four Death Eaters there at this moment," Artemius Pye informed Harry and Neville. "We won't have a better chance."

"What charms or curses protect the house?" Harry asked, turning his head to look at the other four. Stockwood was unfolding a plan of the manor they had got from the Muggle authorities.

"None that we know of," Humpton answered.

"None!?" almost yelled Harry, shocked. "That's not possible."

"We haven't detected anything," explained Stockwood. "We've checked. We have even entered the property, and looked through a few windows concealed by your Invisibility Cloak. Nothing."

Harry frowned and looked at the manor again. Was it possible that Sbalkal was so sure of his invincibility that he hadn't bothered to protect the place where he lived? Surely, he had never seen him fearful or scared. He had escaped the Ministry and had confronted hundreds of wizards and witches on his own at the meeting of the ICW.

"If we're doing something, this is the moment, Harry," Neville said. Harry turned to look at him, and saw his body floating in the air, under Sbalkal's power. Was the Elder Wand powerful enough to stop him? The image of Sbalkal being hit by a Stabbing Curse appeared before his eyes. It hadn't killed him. And now, he hadn't bothered to protect the house. Sbalkal was intelligent and cunning; the only reason he wasn't protecting himself was that he knew — or believed — he didn't need protection. On the other hand, he had the Elder Wand ...

Hermione believed the Elder Wand wouldn't be enough, and how many times had she ever been wrong?

_Few, but she has. She didn't believe the Elder Wand was real, or that the Resurrection Stone worked,_ he thought.

"Harry?" Aldus asked. Harry felt the grip of fear clutching him. Was he doing the right thing, or was he leading these four people into a trap? Truly, they were — or had been, in Neville's case — Aurors; they had sworn to protect the Ministry and the Wizarding community from any threat, but this ...

He made his decision.

"At the first sign of trouble, I want you to flee," Harry told them.

"We won't," Neville replied. "You know we won't."

"You saw what Sbalkal did, Neville!" Harry exclaimed hotly. "Promise me you'll flee and hide if necessary, or I cancel this operation right now."

"Only if you do the same," Artemius Pye said.

Harry sighed, and nodded. "Okay," he said. "Now let's get ready."

Stockwood pointed at the plan. "From what we have heard and seen, Sbalkal is, usually, in this big drawing room. That's good, because we just have to enter, run along this hallway and we're there.

"I'll cast Disillusionment Charms on you," Harry said.

He did it, for the first time with the Elder Wand, and and saw that he had rendered them completely invisible. The wand was really powerful, and Harry hoped it would be enough.

They leapt over the wall and then approached the house as silently as possible, the way they had been trained to do.

Harry, determined to have the others behind him, as he was the least visible and had the most powerful weapon, got closer to the door and listened. There was no sound.

"Come on," he whispered. He turned the doorknob, and the door opened, though not silently, because the old hinges creaked. Upon hearing the creaking, Harry pushed the door and quickly scanned the luxury entrance hall, however, he paid little to no attention to the expensive, old furniture and the impressive lamp hanging from the high ceiling. Remembering the plan, he looked into the hallway that led to the drawing room.

And there, more or less at the middle of it, was Yaxley. He was turning to face the door, so Harry concluded he had been walking away from the Entrance hall. Harry saw him frown, because, of course, he couldn't see anyone at the doorway, but, before he could do anything, Harry had shot a silent Stunning Spell towards him.

Harry didn't think about controlling the force of the spell, accustomed as he was to his old Phoenix wand. Yaxley, caught by surprise, couldn't defend himself. The streak of red light hit him squarely on the chest and sent him flying backwards. He fell onto the door, unconscious. Harry, surprised, took a moment to look at the wand, now warm in his hands, as if it was enjoying being used this way, to its full power, to conquer other wizards, and to show who — and which wand — was more powerful.

"Come on, Harry!" Neville urged him with a light shove on his left shoulder.

Harry seemed to wake up and ran towards the hallway. He hadn't even reached the spot where Yaxley had been when the double doors of the drawing room, at the end of the hallway, opened, to reveal another Death Eater, who Harry recognised as Walden McNair.

"What the hell —?" he began to ask, after seeing Yaxley's unconscious body. Then, having heard the footsteps, he looked past it, his eyes narrowing, and lifted his wand, already in his hand, to point forwards.

But Harry was quicker again. Almost as if the wand knew what he wanted, he had barely uttered the incantation when McNair was blasted backwards into the drawing room. From behind him, someone shot another spell, and the double doors were blown to pieces, dust and smoke. Harry reached them and cast a Shield Charm before them. His instinct proved to be good as always, because, a second later, a powerful curse was deflected by it.

And then he was inside the drawing room, which certainly was immense. In quick survey of the room, Harry noticed that there were, to the left, one table surrounded by chairs; to the right, a few couches and armchairs next to the fireplace; and, on the side in front of the door just next to the windows, a second chair, behind which Sbalkal was sitting, domineering the room and had his eyes fixed on him.

But Aldus, Artemius and James had been wrong — there were four more Death Eaters there, next to the table: Rabastan Lestrange, Marius Selwyn, Jugson and a brutish Snatcher called Frederick Huff, who was the one that had thrown the curse at them.

"POTTER!" Selwyn exclaimed, and Harry took a quick look down at his body, realising, with surprise, that he was no longer invisible. However, he didn't have time to wonder why, because the four men were now ready to fight.

Harry cast a new Shield Charm, which stopped two curses thrown at them, and immediately afterwards he began to retaliate. From behind him, Neville, Aldus, Artemius and James spread out and began to attack their enemies, but they could have stayed still, because Harry, with the Elder Wand, was too much for them. With two quick movements, Jugson and Lestrange crumpled to the floor. Selwyn was fighting Neville and James, while Huff dueled Aldus and Artemius. And, meanwhile, Sbalkal remained in his chair, watching the battle unfolding before him as though it was some sort of spectacle made for his amusement.

Selwyn cast a Killing Curse that missed James by inches, so Harry aimed at him and threw a powerful spell in his direction. He cast a Shield Charm, but it was useless against Harry's spell, and Selwyn was lifted off his feet and thrown backwards, disappearing through a glass and out of sight. Harry turned to Huff, but in that moment, Huff was hit by two Stunning Spells, and he dropped to the floor, unconscious.

The moment his body hit the floor, Harry pointed the Elder Wand at Sbalkal, who still hadn't moved. Beside him, the other four did the same.

"_Stupefy!_" he yelled, not wanting to give Sbalkal time to do anything. However, the Elder Wand, until then so eager to help him defeat others, did nothing.

"What the —? _STUPEFY!_" he yelled again.

Nothing.

"And now what?" Sbalkal asked, his penetrating, dangerous grey eyes fixed on Harry. Harry just gaped at him, stunned and unable to utter any word. He looked at the wand, which had failed him in the most crucial moment, and knew that he was finished. Maybe all of them. But instead of feeling scared, the realisation left him just numb, too shocked to do or feel anything.

"You've always had good instincts, Harry Potter," Sbalkal said. "And yet, even when there's no protection around this house, you decided to go along with your plan. You saw what I did at the meeting, and yet you came. I'm sure Hermione Granger told you not to do so, didn't she? She knew that it would be useless. That the Elder Wand wouldn't be enough. But you didn't listen."

Harry opened his mouth, astonished. He knew about the Elder Wand?

"You should have listened to her and stayed huddled at The Burrow. I would have let you be, at least for now. I'm not Voldemort, Harry Potter; your existence means nothing to me. Of course, that wouldn't have gone like that forever, but you'd have had a chance to meet your second son. But instead of what was reasonable and logical, you did something you consider a horrible thing, taking that wand from its resting place, and you came here to fight me, thinking that its power would be enough." He held out his hand, and, before Harry could do anything to prevent it, the Elder Wand flew out of his hands and straight into Sbalkal's. He glanced at it and then started to twist it between his fingers.

"There's no unbeatable wand; you already know that. In fact, every possessor of this wand has been beaten. The Peverells were talented wizards, yes, but no one, or, should I say, _no wizard_ can make an invincible wand. This wand is just the most powerful ever, but not unbeatable. And, though it would be useful against any other wizard or witch, I'm not one. I told you I am the power that controls the world, but you ignored what that means. This wand is nothing against me. Just a simple, useless stick," he stated, and, twisting his fingers, he snapped it in two. Neville let out a gasp of surprise that was echoed by the others, but Harry was too shocked to even let out the simplest of sounds. He could only watch Sbalkal throw the two halves of a wand that had survived for centuries unceremoniously to the floor, where they rolled over until they stopped, two feet away from the other.

"Did you think I wasn't aware of the fact that you've been hiding behind that bunch of trees for the last days?" he asked them. "I knew. I've known since the beginning. But you see, when you've lived for as long as I have, you can get a bit bored sometimes, so I decided to play with you for a bit." He stood up and began to walk round the table. "But now the game's over. You chose your own fate when you came here."

"Run," Harry told the others. "Disapparate. Anything."

"We can't," James said. "It doesn't work."

"Let's see, who is going to be the first?" said Sbalkal.

"I'm the only one that doesn't have a family, or a girlfriend," stated Aldus. "I made mistakes the other time, when Thicknesse was appointed Minister, and I won't repeat them. RUN!" he yelled, and then threw himself against Sbalkal. However, before he had reached him, Sbalkal hit him very quickly with his left arm and sent him flying against the couch, where he rebounded, and fell to the floor, apparently unconscious.

"Idiot," Sbalkal said. He fixed his eyes on Harry. "Time for you to —"

All of a sudden, very hot flames burst all around Sbalkal's body. Surprised, Harry, Neville, James and Artemius jumped backwards. Harry looked at Aldus, and saw him holding his wand, which was pointed at Sbalkal. Since when could he do something like this?

"Disapparate!" yelled Harry, suddenly knowing that they would be able to, and ran towards Aldus, who, exhausted, had now dropped his wand. He barely heard the sound of the others Disapparating. He grabbed Aldus' hand and, as he turned on the spot, glanced for just a moment at Sbalkal, his face a mask of fury in the midst of the dying flames.

He Apparated next to The Burrow's fence, thanking Merlin for having taken his own wand. He looked beside him, at Aldus. He was unconscious now. His face was bloody. Sbalkal had broken his nose, lips and some teeth. How had he managed to attack Sbalkal?

"Harry, we have to get inside the protected area!" Neville shouted, kneeling beside him to grab Aldus' body. Harry nodded, but seemed unable to move, so it was James who helped Neville raise Aldus from the ground. They took him into the garden. Artemius, looking worried, yanked Harry by his right arm towards The Burrow, too, and Harry, finally, went along.

He had lost the Elder Wand.

He had failed, and it was just a miracle that they were alive to tell the tale.

All hope was lost.

— — o — —

Sbalkal clenched his firsts, furious, while he paced the room, not even acknowledging the state of his servants. Of course, he knew they were there, but he didn't care about them at all. His thoughts were focused on what had happened a moment ago.

Humpton couldn't have attacked him, and much less using such magic, that was beyond his ability. Someone had used him to stop him, to save Potter and the others. But who? Which one of the two? He could not be sure. He gritted his teeth in anger, but then forced himself to calm down. Anger was not a good thing. It was a weakness, and very uncommon in him. He had to avoid it.

"Okay," he said. "Okay ... if you want to play, let's play. It's time to obliterate that bunch of traitors, that nuisance. It's time to kill and draw you out of your hole. I'm strong enough to face you." He looked at the men lying on the floor, and made them wake up. "Bring all the others here," he ordered them. They blinked repeatedly, trying to remember what had happened and, after a few seconds, nodded. "Aurors too. Then wait for my orders."

"Yes, Master," Lestrange said. "We —"

He didn't wait to hear what he had to add, and teleported himself to the top of a hill near The Burrow. He stared at it. Those fools believed that a _Fidelius _Charm could stop him. As he observed the house, he could sense the moment was approaching. But it was just one battle, and when it ended, he should have to face another.

He actually felt a bit nervous, but also eager. This was the most important moment of his life. The moment of most uncertainty since this plan has been set in motion.

He began to walk towards the house. The _Fidelius _Charm and the other protective enchantments couldn't stop him. He concentrated on them and, with the simple force of his will, they were dismantled, leaving the inhabitants of the house unprotected and unaware of it.

"Time to face your fate," he whispered.

* * *

_And with this cliff hanger we reach a turning point in this part 2 of the story. In next chapter we'll find out what happened to Ron during all these months! We got a glimpse of him, here, though, in the flashback. What do you think of Sbalkal's presence at Hogwarts the day of the last battle?_

_See you on Saturday!_


	23. Nowhere

_Well, here it is, the chapter you all were waiting for. I must warn you that this is the longest chapter yet and that there are lots, LOTS of information here, so if you are developing a headache, read it later. In fact, I'd suggest you to read it at least twice._

_This chapter also features the last flashback, that shows the last meeting between the cloaked man and Dumbledore. Enjoy it._

_**Kathy **__was an enormous help in this chapter, so thanks to her._

* * *

**PART II**

**TALES OF OLD SECRETS**

_**Chapter 23**_

**Nowhere**

* * *

_5__th__ June, 1997_

Dumbledore walked along the cliffs slowly, enjoying the scent of the salty air and the soft breeze on his face. Every now and then he looked down, to the dangerous rocks that were being beat mercilessly by the strong waves. He had to be close. After having spent months in search he was reasonably sure this was the place he was looking for.

_I'd better be_, he thought. _I haven't got much time left, after all._

He kept walking. He had to be close. He had been exploring this area for three days, and the end of the cliffs was not very far. The cave to where the young Tom Riddle had taken those poor children had to be near. He could almost feel it.

He looked ahead of him stopped dead in his tracks. A hundred yards or so ahead of him, someone wearing a black cloak and a hood was standing on the top of a rock; someone whose figure he knew very well. He stared at him for a few moments, and then strode hurriedly towards him.

"Hi, Professor," the man greeted him.

"Good evening, whatever you're called."

The man laughed good-naturedly, leapt off the rock and then leaned against it.

"It's always good to see you, Professor."

"I suppose that, after a few times, I can say the same." Dumbledore looked into his hidden face. "I guess you know what I'm looking for?"

"Your guess is right."

"And I guess that, if I ask you how you know it, you won't tell me."

The man turned to his left and looked at the sea, or so it seemed. His cloak was flapping due to the breeze, but no part of his body was revealed.

"I know because it is in your mind, and I can feel what you are seeking."

"Can you?"

The man nodded. He moved forwards, to the very edge of the cliffs, and pointed to a rock about two hundred yards ahead of where they were standing.

"There. You'll find that cave there, one of Lord Voldemort's hiding places."

"I've spent months looking for it."

"I know."

"And I assume you've known where it was all along?"

"Your assumption is correct, yes."

"Then why?" Dumbledore asked him. "Why didn't you tell me? You know how important this is."

The man turned his head and looked at him.

"Why haven't you told Harry Potter about the piece of Voldemort's soul he carries inside him?"

Despite being already accustomed to the knowledge the cloaked man often exhibited, he couldn't help but gape at him for a while, surprised.

"It's — it's too soon for him to know," he answered finally.

"Yes, it is. They must work things on their own, because they soon will be alone."

"Yes," Dumbledore confirmed.

"That's the answer to your question, then."

Dumbledore stared at the mysterious man for a while, not knowing what to say. But finally, it was him who spoke again.

"I could save you, Professor. I could heal your hand; destroy the curse that's killing you."

"Could you?" Dumbledore asked, surprised.

"I could."

"Curse or not curse, my time is coming to an end," Dumbledore confessed. "I don't really mind, you see. I've had a long and good life. Resting won't be that bad."

"You've asked Severus Snape to kill you, to save the boy, to protect the students of Hogwarts."

"Yes," Dumbledore confirmed. "It may seem a foolish idea, but I really think that the Malfoy boy is not really evil."

"He's not a good person, either. You could have stopped him, but you're letting him _decide_ not to kill you."

"Yes. Only if he decides not to do it when confronted with the choice he can have some hope."

"Harry, Ron and Hermione will be alone, without your guidance. And there's a lot you haven't told them."

"I'm working in my will," Dumbledore said. "I hope that's enough. If I tell them too much, too soon, it may mean more harm than good."

"So you're giving Harry the Resurrection Stone, and Hermione the key to discover the secret of the Deathly Hallows."

"I _really _would like to know how you know all that. I haven't told anyone."

"I told you. It's in your head, Professor. It is as simple as that."

"So you can read my mind? Even if I am — forgive my lack of modesty — extraordinarily skilled at Occlumency?"

"I can cure an unstoppable curse. Why would Occlumency be a problem for me?"

"It makes sense, when you put it that way, yes." He looked at the sea. "I just hope my clues are enough. Sometimes I think they aren't, but I fear that, if Harry discovers the existence of the Deathly Hallows too soon, he will lose his focus. I have faith on Hermione Granger, I'm sure she can work it out."

"She will," the cloaked man said. "She'll devour the book."

"I'm still struck with Ron's bequest, though," Dumbledore continued. "I'm thinking about giving him my Deluminator, charm it to help and guide him. That boy just needs self-confidence. He tends to belittle himself, and he shouldn't. What he's accomplished so far is extraordinary. And even if he hadn't done anything, just being a loyal friend, just sticking to Harry when he could use his Pureblood status to live carefree, is admirable."

"You think so?"

"Of course. He's loyal. But also insecure. And I'm afraid that, at some point, the mission may be too much for him."

"You think he could walk out on them."

"It is possible, yes. The journey that awaits them will test them to their limits. They'll be in a situation teenagers shouldn't ever be. But I'm sure that, even if that happens, he would want to go back."

"Then enchant the Deluminator so it leads him to Hermione. She's what he needs."

Dumbledore smiled and looked at the sea once more. "Yes, that seems a rather good idea. Ah, young love ..."

Both men stayed in silence for a while.

"However, to lead him back to her ..." Dumbledore said, thoughtful. "If I know her, and, after six years, I'm fairly sure I do, Ms Granger will put good defensive charms around them so they cannot be found."

The man turned his head towards him.

"Then he'll need something that can overcome such magic."

"That would require Ms Granger's collaboration. Or a spell cast upon her."

"That's not necessary," the man replied. "There're other ways to avoid those protective enchantments. Give me the Deluminator."

Dumbledore stared at his companion, and, after a few seconds, he took the Deluminator out of his right pocket and handed it to him. He took it in his hands and turned it in them, then closed his hand around it, and suddenly if glowed with a bluish light. It lasted just a second, and then it vanished. He handed the object back to Dumbledore, who took it, confused. "Now, when she asks for him, he'll be able to find his way back to her."

"So easily?" Dumbledore asked, astonished, and looked at the Deluminator in awe. It didn't seem different.

"Easy for me," the man specified.

"But — how did you do it? What magic could break such enchantments without Ms Granger's collaboration?"

"It would be too complicated to explain, and we haven't got time. You've still got a journey ahead of you."

Dumbledore stared at him. He wanted to know what he had done to the Deluminator, but knew that asking would lead him nowhere.

"You're right. I'm going to check the cave, and then I'll go back to Hogwarts. Is there something else I should know?"

"Bring someone with you when you come," the man advised. "You'll need him to go through the defences put up by Voldemort."

"I will bring Harry; I promised him."

The other man nodded, and then added, "This is the last time we meet."

"As we haven't ever met twice in the same year, I reckon you're right."

"I'll miss our talks, Professor. I really wish you let me save you. I wish things were different ... but, sometimes, we have to let things happen, even if we don't like them, in the hope that, in the end, it'll be for the best."

"Yes, that's a great truth, a lesson that may take decades to be learnt."

The man held out his leather-covered hand. "Good luck, Professor, even if it sounds stupid."

Dumbledore shook it. "Good luck to you too, I suppose, even if I don't know what you do."

"Thank you. Believe me, I'll need it. What may seem a war, is nothing but a battle ... and when the time comes, I'll need all the luck I can get." He bowed his head at Dumbledore, and then, silently as always, vanished.

— — o — —

_A young boy with long black hair and sharp grey eyes, dressed in dirty, old clothes, was staring at him, a shocked expression etched upon his young face._

"_I can do that, too?" he asked in a language that was not English. "You'll teach me?"_

Voices. Distant voices that drilled through his skull. Why couldn't they shut up?

_An strange archway, from which a ragged veil hung, was standing in the middle of a vast chamber. Next to him, Sbalkal was contemplating it, his face reflecting wonder and astonishment ..._

He trashed on the soft surface he was lying on. Wearily, he opened an eye and then closed it again, dazzled by the bright white light that surrounded him.

_Sbalkal was looking at him, a contemptuous expression on his face, a cold look on his eyes. He opened his mouth, and spoke in a strange language, his tone full of dislike._

"_I don't want to be with you anymore. I thought you were strong, but you're like them ... Weak ..."_

He moved once more. The voices seemed to be closer. Why didn't they shut up? He needed to sleep and rest.

_Hermione was asleep on the chair next to his bed. He looked at her for a moment and then started to write a few words in a piece of parchment. He finished and, with a last glance at her, he left the room ..._

"Hermione ..."

He opened his eyes suddenly and jumped to a sitting position. Dazzled by the bright white light that seemed to surround him, he blinked a few times, until he got accustomed to it.

He was in a completely white room. He looked all around, and noticed that he had been lying on a bed without sheets or blankets. The mattress and the pillow, both white, were the only things on it. Apart from the bed, the room was completely empty, except for an armchair near the door. There wasn't any wardrobe, and the light seemed to come from a window to his left. He was alone, though. Bits of the odd dream he had been having came back to him. Had the voices been part of it, too?

"Where the hell I am?" he asked out loud. He felt strange. He didn't know how much time he had been there, but he was well rested and didn't feel hungry or thirsty. He tried to force his mind to remember what had happened and how he had got here, but without success. He remembered waking up in St Mungo, after the disastrous trial. And then ...

There had been pain. A terrible pain, though not physical. He couldn't remember it well, it had been as if something in his mind had opened, flooding him with visions and strange stuff. And then, that moment in which he had left Hermione there, without saying anything ... How could he have done that? And yet, in the memory, it seemed the logical thing to do ...

He didn't know how much time had passed since then, but something inside him was telling him it had been more than a few hours. He was obviously not at St Mungo, except if this was what the Mental Health Ward looked like ...

No. He didn't know how he knew, but he wasn't at St Mungo. In fact, he was fairly sure that he wasn't even in Britain, though he was unable to explain how he knew.

"I've got to get out of here," he muttered. "I need to know what happened, I need to —"

"Glad to see you're with us, Mr Weasley," someone said, startling Ron. He looked towards his right and saw that the door, white like the rest of the room, had opened, and a middle-aged, short man in grey robes was looking at him.

"Who are you? Where I am? What have you done to me? ANSWER ME!" Ron demanded, jumping out of the bed and searching his pockets for his wand. He took it out and pointed it at the man.

"Please, calm down," the man said, raising his hands in a calming gesture. "My name is Antoine and I have no intention of harming you," he added. "As for where we are ... Well, that's a complicated question. Theoretically, we are nowhere."

"WHAT? What do you mean, 'we are nowhere'?" Ron bellowed, frowning. "Are you playing with me? I demand to know, right now —"

"I told Maesse you were waking up," said the man, interrupting him. "He is the one that should answer your questions, not me."

"I'm already here," said another voice, deep and serene. The wizard named Antoine moved into the room and turned round to face the newcomer. Ron moved his wand so it was pointing to him.

He was a medium-tall man, with brown skin and dark, short hair. He seemed to be on his thirties and yet, his eyes, wise and penetrating, said otherwise. His looks reminded Ron of the people he had seen when he had visited Egypt with his family, years ago, and so he concluded he must come from that part of the world.

"Maesse," Antoine said very respectfully.

_Maeh-seh?_

"You may leave, Antoine. Thank you."

"DON'T YOU DARE MOVE!" Ron shouted at him, and a few sparks flew from his wand. "I DEMAND TO KNOW —!"

"Calm down, Ron," the man referred to as 'maeh-seh' said. And instantly, Ron calmed and relaxed. Suddenly, those men didn't seem dangerous at all. He lowered his wand. "You may go, Antoine."

Antoine nodded and, with a last glance at Ron, he left, leaving him and the other man alone.

"Where am I? How did I end up here? What time is it? Who are you?" he began to ask, not even waiting for a response before throwing the next question.

"Well, before I answer all those questions, let me tell you how happy and glad I am for having you here," the man said. "I've been looking for someone like you for a very, very long time." He looked at him with curiosity. "However, I'm surprised that you're already awake. You should be unconscious."

Ron frowned at him.

"So you could keep me here?" Ron asked, and lifted his wand once more. The sudden feeling that had told him this man wasn't dangerous vanished. "Who are you? What am I doing here? What happened to me? _What did you do to me?_"

"As Antoine told you, we are nowhere. At least, nowhere in the world you know."

"_Nowhere in the world I know_?" he repeated, panicking. He looked around him once more, at the bright white room, and remembered something Harry had told him and Hermione after the battle against Voldemort about waking up in a white and empty King's Cross station. "I — I am not dead, am I?"

"No, you're not dead."

"Then where are we? Why don't I remember coming here? Did you abduct me? Do you work for Sbalkal?" he asked, and adopted a more defensive position.

"I most certainly don't work for him," the other man said.

"But you know who he is?"

"Yes, I do."

"How? And who the hell are you? Are you going to tell me?"

"My name is Anwar," the man said.

Anwar. That name sounded familiar, and yet he was sure he had never heard it.

"Are you going to answer to my other questions or do I have to force them out of you?" he threatened.

"I plan to answer every question you've got," Anwar said. "If you please come with me?"

"Where?"

"Outside."

"Outside?"

"You asked me where we are. Well, I could tell you, Ron, but you have to see it."

Ron hesitated for a moment, and then followed Anwar through the doorway and into the corridor. Its walls, floor and ceiling were as white as the room he had been in, with three doors in each side. It ended in a square hall with just one door. Anwar opened it and they went out.

"What the fuck —? What's _this_?"

He moved away from the house, all the time looking around, at the seemingly infinite white surface that extended in every direction. The white house they had come out of, a table, a bench, a few chairs, three strange, white trees and a small pond where the only things there. Every direction he looked, there was nothing but the endless white surface that seemed to be made of white earth. Even the sky was white, though with a bluish tone. The sun was nowhere to be seen, there was no source for the light. It was as if it was emitted by the air itself.

"What — what's this? Where the hell are w-we?" he demanded, scared.

"I told you. Nowhere," said Anwar. "This is a haven, a refuge for us enemies of Sbalkal. This is a place he cannot get in ... for now."

"But — but —" Ron stammered. He was starting to feel hot and dizzy, as if his lungs couldn't get air enough.

"I know you're confused," Anwar told him. "Let's go for a walk, shall we? I'll explain, starting from the beginning."

Ron looked at him, panting heavily.

"Relax, boy," Anwar told him. "Breathe slowly."

"I'm not — a boy."

"You are, compared to me," Anwar replied.

"What? How old are you? Thirty? Thirty-five?"

"Well," the man said, "if you want to know ... I was born in 1087."

"WHAT?" Ron shouted, completely shocked. "_You are telling me you are almost a thousand years old_?"

"Nine hundred and nineteen, to be exact."

"It can't be."

"It is."

"But no wizard has ever lived — not even Nicholas Flamel, and he —"

"I am not a wizard," replied Anwar.

"Then what the hell are you?" he asked. However, Anwar didn't answer; instead, he began to walk. Ron stared at him for a few seconds, and then followed him. He realised they were getting farther from the house, the only reference point in that strange place. He stopped walking. "Wait — what if we get too far and we get lost?"

"This place is not as big as it seems," Anwar told him. "It is like the surface of a sphere. Every straight line here is a circle. It doesn't matter which direction we go, we will be back at the house. In fact, if we keep walking, we'll see it in front of us before we stop seeing it behind. It's like the Earth's surface."

"That doesn't make sense!"

"Of course it makes sense."

"But if this is so small, and it is like Earth, we should see the curvature, shouldn't we?" he asked. "But we don't! And anyway, if we saw the house in front of us, we couldn't see it behind! We —" He fell silent, realising what he had just said. Since when was he an expert in geometry?

"It is the three-dimensional space we are in what is like the surface of a sphere, Ron, not the ground. Light goes in straight lines, but, as straight lines are curves here, you can't really notice it. That is because you're looking with your eyes. But if you look with your mind, you'll be able to see the curvature. In fact, with a good telescope you could even see you own back."

Ron frowned, trying to envision it.

"It's not easy to understand. If you were a Muggle and had studied Geometry or Physics, it would be easier. You'll be able to see it, but not yet. However, I'd expect you to understand the idea."

And Ron realised that, in some strange way, he did, although he had never studied those things. Surely Hermione could have —

He stopped dead once more.

"Hermione," he muttered, and stared at the other man. "What day is it? For how long have I been here?"

"Three weeks," Anwar answered.

Ron felt his blood run cold.

"Three weeks? THREE WEEKS!?" he bellowed. "But — How —? Does Hermione know where I am?"

"No, she doesn't," Anwar said. "Nobody knows. She and your family are looking for you."

"I've gotta go back!" He yelled, and began to look around frantically. "How dare you keep me here, away from my family!?"

"Technically, you came by yourself. No one brought you here."

"YOU LIE!" Ron shouted, ignoring the image of him writing a note to a sleeping Hermione. He spun around, trying to Disapparate, but it didn't work. Swearing, he glared at Anwar. "What kind of Anti-Disapparition charm have you put here? Remove it!"

"There's no charm. You can Disapparate, but magic can't reach the world you live in from here."

"WHAT!? What does that mean?"

"It's hard to explain."

"How did I come here, then? Tell me how to go back!"

"You can't go back, Ron."

"I _MUST_!" he exclaimed, glaring at Anwar. "I promised her I would never, ever leave her again! _I promised!_"

"You also promised that you'd do anything, _anything_ to protect her and your daughter, didn't you?" Anwar replied, also raising his voice a bit.

Ron gaped at him, momentarily lost at words.

"Well, that's another reason why I need to go back! That maniac is out there, isn't he?"

"Yes, he is free."

"Well, tell me how to go back, then!"

"You can't go back, Ron," Anwar repeated patiently.

"Why not? If I came here by my own means, why can't I leave?"

"Because the moment you are out of this place, you'll be dead."

"WHAT!?"

"You must understand, Ron, that, right now, there's nothing in the world Sbalkal desires more than to kill you and me."

"What nonsense is that? He could have killed me during the trial and he didn't!"

"Because then he needed you alive. But now he doesn't. The moment you go back, he'll find and kill you immediately. You must stay here and get trained. Only doing so will you have a chance against him and will be able to protect Hermione and your family."

"Trained? I'm already trained! I'm an Auror! What do you mean? I don't understand anything!" Ron yelled, getting more and more frustrated.

"Because you don't let me explain. Will you listen to me?"

Ron stared at him. He wanted to leave, but he believed Anwar, though he couldn't have explained why. Besides, he couldn't deny he was curious about what was happening and how he had got there. And he seemed to know things about Sbalkal ... and they needed all the information they could get.

"Okay," conceded Ron finally, albeit a bit reluctantly. "I'll give you a few minutes."

Anwar began to walk once more, and Ron, after a few seconds, did the same.

"As I told you, I am not a wizard," he said. "And, as surely you have imagined, neither is Sbalkal."

"What are you, then? This magic you do —"

"We don't do magic," Anwar corrected him. "We haven't got an 'official' name, never gave ourselves one, but, as you saw, Antoine and the other wizards and witches that assist me called me 'maesse' —"

"I don't know what it means."

"_Maese_ is a word that means 'master' in some languages — meaning a person skilled at something and who teaches others — though it is a very old fashioned term. But the way they use it, it stands for 'Master of Essence', which is a very good description."

"Master of Essence," repeated Ron. "What's that essence?"

"Essence is what we call the prime substance of which everything is made. Energy, matter, Magic ... everything. Muggles are already aware that energy and matter can transform into each other. They believe that matter is a condensed form of energy. But the truth is that they both are — in some way — condensed forms of Essence. Something they'll never know, of course, as Essence is undetectable for them, or for wizards."

"I have never heard of such a thing," Ron said.

"Almost no one has. Essence exists in the part of the universe where we live always in 'condensed' forms. The only almost pure form of Essence that exists here are souls, Ron. And souls cannot be detected by Muggles — at least, not in a scientific way. They can be detected, or affected, by Magic ... though of course, not even with Magic could you know what a soul really is."

"You are telling me that souls are made of the same thing than — I don't know — water?"

"Yes."

"How do you know that?" Ron asked. "If it cannot really be detected, how do you know everything's made of it?"

"Because it is in our nature to perceive, understand, and even manipulate it, Ron, just like Wizards can feel and manipulate magic.

"You know, Muggles are really good in understanding the laws of the universe. They have progressed very much. Their minds are trained to do so. Wizard minds, on the other side, aren't. And why? Because they have magic. They can perceive and use it. Do you know what Magic is, Ron?"

"Of course I know! It is — eh ... the power that let us do things."

Anwar let out a short laugh. "Don't worry. No wizard could answer to that, not really."

"And you can?"

"Yes. Magic is a _force_, Ron. The universe is controlled by the four prime forces of nature, all of them aspects of the same thing. Muggles understand them almost perfectly, and they call them _Strong Nuclear Force_, _Weak Nuclear Force_, _Electromagnetism _and _Gravitation_. Though explained by complicated equations and Maths, their behaviour is very simple. Each of those forces affects something. Strong Force affects particles with _colour charge_, weak force affects matter, Electromagnetism affects matter with _electrical charge_, and Gravitation affects the geometry of space-time. Well, Magic is another force.

"And what makes Magic different from the other forces? Well, for starters, it's much more complex. The other forces are, in a way, quite simple. You can predict how matter will behave when influenced by those forces — at least, to the limits imposed by what Muggles call Quantum Mechanics. But Magic is a bit different, because Magic is a_ force with a mind_."

"With a mind? What does that mean? That it can _think_?"

"Exactly. That's what makes Magic special, what puts it a level above the other forces. You have a mind, and so does Magic. You have used magic to turn one thing into another, haven't you?"

"Yeah."

"But how could you do that, if you don't know what the objects you're charming are composed of?"

"I understand it basically," Ron said. "And magic does the rest."

"Exactly," Anwar nodded. "Magic does the rest. How? Well, there is a concept Muggle Physics don't consider, and that's why they will never understand everything. The concept of _Entity_. I told you every force affects something specific. Well, Magic affects entities, and as everything is part of one or more entities, magic can affect everything."

"What's an entity?" asked Ron.

"You. Me. A pig. A tree. For Muggles, the molecules and particles that constitute a tree are not different from those that constitute the ground where it grows. But there is a difference! The Essence that constitutes every particle belongs to the same Entity! When you turn a desk into a pig, Ron, you don't need to know everything about the pig, because Magic already does. Magic can interact with Entities. Magic _knows_ what a pig is. It thinks for you. Magic thinks for you. You'll learn that everything is connected, Ron, and so, that mind is unique. This is not so strange, you see; after all, minds are also made of Essence, or, rather, a process of Essence. So the fact that Magic's got a mind means that it _can learn_. Every wizard, witch or magical being contributes to that learning. When you develop a new spell, you just are telling Magic what to do, so, when another person uses the same spell in the same way, they get the same — or similar — result. The power of a wizard or witch it's just their ability to tell Magic what to do. This isn't as strange as it may seem. It is frequent that more than one person discovers something at practically the same time.

"Well, that's why Wizards don't really understand the world they live in. Yes, they know about magic, and some of them understand — somewhat — how magic works. But most of you don't, because you don't need to. Your mind is not trained to think that way. You Apparate and Disapparate without wondering how. You can enlarge a room without changing the house and never think how that's possible."

"And you know, then?"

"I know," Anwar confirmed. "As I told you, I am a Master of Essence."

"I still don't get what that means."

"Like you can interact with Magic, we can interact with Essence itself. We can perceive it and manipulate it in ways no other creature can. But, while you _ask_ Magic to do something, we interact with Essence in a much more basic way. We _have to tell_ Essence exactly what to do. We must understand everything we're dealing with. And we can do that because our souls are connected to the rest of the Essence in a very special way. As an example, you can know what other people are thinking by using Legilimency. Basically, that consists in using the Magic field to get some information from other person's mind. We can do the same, but we don't need to send anything to get information. I can read your thoughts because they're a process that involves Essence, and I am connected to all of it. When you think, the state of Essence changes, and I can perceive that."

"So you know everything?" asked Ron. "You could do anything?"

"No," Anwar said. "It is possible for others like me to block knowledge, and to manipulate Essence you need power. I can make Essence do anything within the limits of my power. Besides, though we can cause instantaneous actions at a distance, space is a factor to take into account."

He put his left hand flat up, and, above it, appeared a very tiny golden ball that began to grow until it was about one inch in diameter.

"Is that gold?" asked Ron, astounded.

"It is," Anwar answered.

"But you can't transfigure anything into gold!" Ron exclaimed. "Well, you can, with a Philosopher's Stone, but, without it —"

"That's a limit imposed by magic," Anwar replied. "There are some substances whose Entities are — to magic — special for some reasons. Gold is one of them and that's why it is so valuable for Muggles and wizards, because it can't be produced in large quantities easily. But I didn't rely on Magic to create this sphere. I forced the matter of the air surrounding us to rearrange itself and constitute gold. Of course, to do that, I need to know and understand the constitution of air and the constitution of gold."

"So that's how Sbalkal did what he did," Ron commented, truly impressed.

"Yes. You can't stop him with Magic, because he can control it. You can't surprise him, because he knows what you're thinking. You were never rivals to him. He played with you all along. You didn't catch him, Ron; he let you. He wanted to get caught."

"But you've got this powers! You could have stopped him!" Reproached Ron. "Why didn't you do anything to prevent all this?"

"Because I couldn't," Anwar answered. "Believe me, if I could stop him, I'd have. But he's much stronger than me. I'm almost powerless now."

"Why?"

"It is hard to explain," Anwar said. "I think it is better if I tell you the story from the beginning, then you'll understand why all this happened, and why you are here."

"Okay," accepted Ron. He really wanted to go back, but he was so close to unveil the mystery, and maybe, to find out how to stop Sbalkal.

They kept walking for a few minutes, in silence, until Ron began to feel impatient. Anwar must have sensed it, because then he began to talk.

"At some point," Anwar started, "you'll understand that while all Essence is connected, it is divided into _sahs_. A _sah_ is what you'd call a 'piece' of Essence. A proton, an electron, the core of a soul, are _sahs_. Each _sah_ has five properties: quantity, density, affinity, identity, and vibration. Identity is what defines the _sah_. It's not something countable, just what defines it. Essence that shares identity has the deepest level of connection. Affinity is what defines an entity. A sah can only have one identity, but can have multiple affinities. Affinity is what connects _sahs_ in entities. And not all affinities are the same. Affinity possesses certain strength. The strength of the affinity determines how difficult is to detach Essence from an entity. This is important and we'll talk about it later. Then there is density. Density is exactly what its name suggests: the amount of Essence in each rynx."

"What's a rynx?" asked Ron.

"You'll understand in due time. For now, let's say that a rynx is the smallest portion of space during the smallest period of time. Consider rynxes like tiny 'cells' that hold Essence. A _sah_ occupies a certain number of rynxes, though it can move through them, either in space, in time, or in both. Movement is, in fact, nothing but the 'transference' of the properties of Essence in a rynx to another rynx. Teleportation, or Apparition, is the same, only that it happens between non-adjacent rynxes. You must understand rynxes make no sense without Essence, and Essence makes no sense without rynxes. Those concepts are so deeply intertwined they are barely distinguishable. You could think of Essence as the properties of rynx." He made a brief pause, maybe to give Ron some time to assimilate all these concepts, and then continued. "Well, the amount of Essence in each rynx is what we call density. A _sah_ has the same density in all its rynxes. The sum of all the Essence in all rynxes is the fourth property, quantity. Do you get it?"

"Eh — I suppose, though I'm not very sure," answered Ron.

"It doesn't matter, for now," Anwar said. "Then there is the last property, vibration. It is how we call it, though of course it's not a vibration in the normal sense of the word. Vibration is, by difference, the most complex property of Essence, and the most difficult to understand. In fact, we don't understand if completely. Vibration defines most of the properties of anything, Ron. Electrical charge, colour charge, magical properties, even feelings and thoughts, are states and changes in vibration. Vibration is what defines what a _sah_ can do. Vibration is the true energy of the Universe. And the curious thing is that, the lower the density of a _sah_, the more complex can its vibration be. Material things possess relatively simple vibrations, easy to manipulate. On the other hand, the greater the density of a _sah_, more easily can it be affected by other _sahs_. That's why matter is relatively easy to manipulate. Energy, a bit more difficult. Magic, which has an even lower density of Essence, can only be manipulated by magical beings and objects, either because they possess magical properties (this is, magic attached to them) or because they possess a soul with magical ability. That is what happens to wizards, house elves, goblins, centaurs and other creatures.

"Souls are, Ron, the most complex thing you can create with Essence. They possess such a low density that they practically can't be detected, but this allows them to possess the most complex vibration possible.

"People always refer to souls as if they were a unity, but the truth is that they are composed by two _sahs_. The core, which we call _rôs_, and the container, which we call _sôhr_. The _rôs_ contains the essence of your being, your memories, your personality. It possesses such a low density that it needs the _sôhr_ to interact with the rest of the Essence. But a _rôs_ is not just a _sah_, is also an entity. And its affinity is so strong that nothing, _nothing_, can break it. The core of a soul, Ron, can never be destroyed.

"You mean they are eternal?" asked Ron.

"Yes. That is something both Muggles and wizards understand instinctively. You can transform a pig into a desk, or a tree into a table ... but you can never turn a _rôs_ into anything else, it doesn't matter how powerful you may become.

"And you see, as a _rôs_ has such a low density, it interacts with the Universe through the _sôhr_. The _sôhr_ defines the abilities of a soul, like if you've got magical abilities or you can become a Master of Essence. The _rôs_ and the _sôhr_ form also an unbreakable entity, which is the soul as you understand it."

"But that can't be true!" Ron yelled. "I mean, Voldemort broke his soul into eight pieces! How can it be unbreakable?"

"Voldemort never broke the _rôs_ of his soul. But the _sôhr_ can be broken. Not by something external, but by itself. You see, Ron, the creation of a soul is something extremely rare. Souls are normally created by other souls. The act of conception means not only the physical creation of another body, but also a creation of another soul. The souls of parents create new souls from Essence. This is a process so complex we cannot really comprehend it. So you see, souls create life. That's why children of wizards and witches tend to be wizards and witches. Who your parents are, their state when they conceive you, affects you. So you see, destroying life, or worse, destroying it and enjoying the process, _murdering_ is something unnatural for a soul, and it _breaks _the _sôhr_. This way, with magic, it is possible to take the ripped part and store it somewhere else. But the union between the sôr and all its _sôhrs_ can't be really broken, and that's how horcruxes work.

"You see, Ron, the Universe is divided in two areas, or zones. One of them is where we live, where everything material exists. The other is what we call _the Source_, as it is where all Essence comes from. But you call this region of the Universe, _the Afterlife_.

"The —" began to say Ron, astounded.

"Yes," nodded Anwar. "These regions are different, and there is what you'd call a 'barrier' between them. The natural state of Essence is to be on the other side. To stay here, it must have a certain level of density. The density of Magic is the lowest density allowed. _Sahs_ with lower density _fall_ to the other side. Souls, then, can't exist here. The only way they can do it it's thanks to their vibration, that allows the _sôhr_ to create a connection with a body, an entity. When the body dies, or the soul is detached from the body, destroying the entity, the soul goes back to the other side. Once that happens, it is impossible to give the soul the vibration that would allow it to form another entity with another body, and that's why the dead can't come back. The creation of a soul, Ron, is a process that takes part at the barrier. You see, as I told you, that rynxes are the smallest piece of space. There's no separation between rynxes. But there is something like a gap between the rynxes on this side and the rynxes on the Source. That tiny gap implies that our power to manipulate Essence on the other side is very limited. It makes almost impossible for _sahs_ that belong to the same entity to exist in both sides. The connection between a _rôs_ and its _sôhr_ is too strong, so the soul can only depart together. Making a horcrux implies causing the broken pieces of a _sôhr_ to make an entity with something else. So, while these entities persist, the soul remains here. Do you understand?" Anwar asked Ron.

"I don't know," Ron said. "Look, this is — well, very interesting, but souls is not what we should be taking about. I promised you just a few minutes and we've been talking for almost half an hour and I barely understand what's happening!"

"Souls, Ron, is exactly what we must talk about, because everything's about them. Let me continue and you'll understand."

"Okay, but make it quick!" said Ron begrudgingly.

"Well, the question is that the vibration that defines life, that attaches a soul to a body, _decreases_. It is possible to strengthen it, through our power, through certain magic, like Elixir or Life, or by being forced to remain here, through horcruxes. But eventually this vibration vanishes, the soul gets tired, and that is what you call natural death. And it is unavoidable. Even horcruxes won't exist eternally. The entities they form end up disintegrating and then the entire soul departs, but maimed and corrupted."

Ron stared at him, perplexed. "Are you saying that Voldemort wasn't immortal?"

"He believed he was, but he wasn't. Eventually, his horcruxes would have decayed and he would have died."

"So everything we did was for nothing!?" shouted Ron, outraged.

"No, of course not," replied Anwar. "It could have taken years for him to die naturally, and he would have done terrible things in that time."

"This is too complex," Ron said. "I'm getting a headache."

"I know. But just bear in mind that is was our soul what gives us our powers, what makes us Masters of Essence. Our souls — mine and Sbalkal's — possess this extraordinary and very rare vibration that allows us to manipulate the properties of Essence, vibration included. We cannot do everything, of course, because our power is not unlimited and because we don't understand completely how vibration works. We could give a particle electrical charge, but we cannot give another soul our powers, or increase them artificially.

"And well, it is with the first people that discovered this ability how our story begins," Anwar continued. "Everything started about four thousand years ago, with a woman named Mara. Mara was extraordinary. She didn't have anyone to teach her how to use her exceptional powers, but she discovered that she could, in a way, connect to the world around her; she discovered that she could discover and understand things just thinking and observing them, and, under some circumstances, even influence the world just using the force of her will. She began to study those abilities, and though she never mastered it like we do now, she built the stone foundations of our group, order, society or whatever you want to call it.

"When she grew old, she started to fear that everything she had learnt would be lost, and so she began to search for someone with the same ability. It took her several years, but, eventually, she met a man named Thyros. Thyros was not as skilled as her; he wasn't as powerful, but he had the advantage that everything Mara had already discovered was at his disposition to learn, so he progressed much more quickly and was able to go beyond the point his master had gone. Years after Mara's death, he started a similar search and found another two pupils: a man named Kuros; and, some time later, a woman named Hiya. These two, Kuros and Hiya, are considered the very first true Master of Essence, because they were the first ones to achieve immortality, though years after Thyros had passed away."

"Immortality?" Ron asked, astonished. "Didn't you say that immortality was impossible?"

"Through magic," clarified Anwar. "Our souls are stronger than normal ones, Ron. And through training and studying, they made their souls strong enough so the vibration that defines life and maintains the affinity with the body never fades. Though our souls have a very special connection with everything, it is stronger when it comes to our bodies, because of the Entity we form together. So we don't age, but remain at the height of our health for as long as we live. We don't need to eat, to drink, to breathe or to sleep, and even if our bodies are, in any way, destroyed, we can _repair_ them so we don't die."

"Immortal ..." repeated Ron in awe. "But — if you are, then why —?"

"We get tired of living, too," Anwar explained. "The weight of years can become very heavy," he added, with a sigh. "I know it very well. So, when we decide it's been enough, we simply die."

"I don't understand that. I mean, if you are young and can live forever, without corrupting your soul ..."

"You are too young to understand that. But souls are not meant to live here forever. We grow tired of life and its burdens. You know, Ron, one of the most wonderful and yet more terrible things that come with being what we are is empathy."

"Empathy?"

"When we're trained and reach the correct state of mind to understand what our souls can do and what we are, we are connected to everything. That means you can feel what any other creature feels. That can be amazing, but it can also be terrible: you feel joy and happiness and love, but also pain, fear and loss. Of course, we can control it, but, even so, it is always there, and it gets tiresome. But that ability is also what makes us kind and sympathetic. We understand suffering like nobody else, and that's why we love every living creature. The idea of killing is terrible to us."

"But — Sbalkal —"

Anwar sighed.

"Yes, well ... you see, that's what happens to most of us, but not all of us. Kuros and Hiya looked for new people with our abilities just like Mara and Thyros had. It was easier for them, and yet I have to tell you that it is very difficult to detect our ability in a soul, at least when it is not developed. It's easier to detect magical powers. And we are very, very rare. However, after some centuries, Hiya found a boy named Kalkras that had our powers. She took him with her, and that way Kalkras was trained. But, though at first he accepted the rules Kuros and Hiya had established, when he grew older he began to change. When Kuros was about six hundred years, he decided he had had enough, and let himself die. Kalkras and Hiya were with him, and, in that moment, Kalkras decided that he would never die. He decided that he was truly immortal, and, therefore, he had nothing to do with mortal people, because they were of no importance. He decided it didn't matter if they died naturally or were killed, as, in any case, their lives were brief. They were already doomed to die. What did it matter if it happened sooner or later? And he decided that he would not watch them, or help them, but that, as he was wiser and more powerful, he should rule over them. He turned to evil, and Evil, Ron, like Good, is a well defined concept in Essence. He became darker and darker, obsessed with the idea of ruling the world, living forever and becoming infinitely powerful. You must understand, Ron, that after we reach some stage, our power begins to grow, feeding itself, and keeps growing for as long as we live. Hiya tried to stop him, but Kalkras was powerful, and knew how to hide, waiting for the moment when he would be more powerful than his old master.

"Hiya kept persecuting him, trying to get and destroy him before it was too late, though without success. But, during one of her travels, she went to Egypt and there she came across a boy named Pyret."

Ron frowned. Pyret ... that name rang a bell, and yet he hadn't heard it before.

"Realising his potential," Anwar continued, "Hiya began to train him. And Pyret proved to be extraordinarily skilled. In fact, he soon became the most skilled master of Essence ever. In just a few centuries, he had become stronger than his master, and it was him who, finally, was able to track and defeat Kalkras."

"But — you said you were immortal!"

"It is possible for us to be killed by another master of Essence," Anwar explained. "You must kill the body of the other, use your power to prevent their soul from repairing it and then break their affinity. Though less than any other being, we are linked to our bodies, and cannot exist without them for long. One of our goals was to overcome that limitation, but we are far from that."

"I see."

"Pyret went further than anyone else before him in the understanding of Essence and vibration. We don't do for mortals as much as we could, for the same reason you don't use your Magic to alleviate the problems Muggles have, but we do help, and Pyret helped more than anyone else, teaching wizards and Muggles things about Magic and Science. During his travels around the world, Pyret found his first apprentice, Hi-Shu; and when he had trained him, Hiya, already very tired, left the world."

Ron frowned. "Why did she wait for Pyret to find another apprentice if she was so tired?"

"Because when Hiya and Kuros realised the amount of power they had, they decided that there should never be only one of us. Our will, Ron, is the strongest. Our will is more powerful than the will of Essence, and, hence, the will of the Universe. This 'will of Essence' is what you perceive as laws of Physics and Magic. As our will, or our vibration, is stronger, we can change them. If there were just one of us, they would be too powerful, and that must never happen."

"Okay," Ron said, nodding.

"Centuries later, in 198 AD," Anwar continued, "Pyret found his second apprentice, Ørsya. And three hundred years after that, he met his third and last trainee, the most gifted of them all; perhaps, the most gifted ever after Pyret himself: Sbalkal."

"Three hundred years later?" repeated Ron, stunned. "That means he was born in — in —"

"In the year 540," answered Anwar. "Yes, he is quite old. You see, Sbalkal was extraordinary; he learned faster and progressed more quickly than anyone before him. Together, he and Pyret did incredible things. Sbalkal was the first person whom Pyret showed his Archway."

"What Archway?"

"The one Sbalkal took from your Department of Mysteries," Anwar answered.

Ron had a sudden image of Sbalkal looking at that archway, the archway, he now realised, had been at the bottom of that strange room in the Department of Mysteries, the one through which Sirius had fallen ... Hadn't that image Sbalkal been part of the dream he had been having before waking up? But how could he have seen that?

"But, as the years passed and Pyret grew more and more tired of life, Sbalkal began to change. He started to follow Kalkras' theses, saying that dying was an unacceptable human weakness we shouldn't have. He began to search for more and more power, stated that depending on a body was another weakness, and that it was his true objective to be free from such dependence. Pyret tried to reason with him, but to no avail. However, Sbalkal never dared to defy Pyret. He had begun to despise him — and Hi-Shu and Ørsya, too — when Pyret told him that he had lived for too long, that was tired and intended to die soon, but Sbalkal still respected and feared Pyret's power."

Ron frowned. That sounded very familiar, too. Hadn't Sbalkal said to someone 'you are like the others, weak', or something similar?

"This is very strange," Ron commented. These things you're talking about ... it's like if _I_ had lived and somehow forgotten them. How's that?"

"Soon," Anwar responded, and then continued with his story. "Pyret died in 897. However, he left everything settled so the vast knowledge he possessed would not be lost: he taught a few wizards how to preserve a brain, and so his brain was extracted from his body and conserved. And in that brain, he left all his knowledge and a great amount of power."

"He left his brain?" Ron said, shocked. And then, a sudden idea struck him. "You mean, like those brains in the Department of Mysteries?"

Anwar stopped walking and stared at him intensely.

"Yes, Ron. Pyret's brain has been, in fact, in your Department of Mysteries until very recently."

Ron gave a step back. Almost unconsciously, he touched his forearms, and then rolled up his sleeves and raised his arms so he could look at the old scars, which were still visible.

"Yes, it was Pyret's brain the one that caused those scars, ten years ago," Anwar said in answer to Ron's unspoken question.

"Why I am here?" he asked, scared, and gave another step backwards. "What did that brain do to me?"

"We're getting there, Ron," Anwar answered in soft and calming voice.

"No! Tell me now! I want to know! _I deserve to know!_"

Anwar sighed, his eyes fixed on Ron.

"I've already told you," Anwar answered. He fixed his eyes on Ron's. "You came here to be trained."

"Trained?"

"Trained to be a master of Essence."

Ron opened and closed his mouth, unable to utter a word, shocked as he was.

"No, that can't be — I — I never —"

"You've always had the potential, Ron, but, as I know now, it could have gone unnoticed. Even if we had found you, you wouldn't have been trained, because your ability wasn't good enough. But that has been changing for the last ten years."

"No, no," said Ron. "This makes no sense — I —"

"It makes sense," Anwar replied. "And you should feel grateful, Ron. Had not been for your encounter with Pyret's brain, you'd be dead, and everything might be lost."

Ron turned on the spot and brushed his face.

"This is too much. This — this —"

"Let me finish my story, and you'll understand," Anwar said.

Ron stared at him, not knowing how he felt. He was confused, shocked and, above all, scared. And yet he needed to know. He nodded.

"You see," Anwar continued, "after Pyret's death, Sbalkal revealed his true intentions: to become the last and only of us; to kill Ørsya and Hi-Shu so his will would be the only one, so he could become the supreme ruler of the Universe — a god. Ørsya and Hi-Shu tried to stop him, but to no avail. He was too strong and too intelligent, and knew how to avoid them. As the years passed, he grew more and more powerful, stronger and stronger. And finally, he found Hi-Shu and killed her.

"That happened before I was born. I was just a child of eight when Ørsya found me in Damasco. She took me to a place similar to this one, which had been built by Pyret himself, and she began to train me. Sbalkal didn't dare to attack us, because Ørsya was very powerful, more than Hi-Shu, and he wasn't sure if he could defeat her. She taught me the secrets of Essence and the power I carried inside me. And, when I became strong enough, we began to search for Sbalkal, to try and defeat him before his powers grew too much for us to be able to defeat him. But after some encounters across the years, we found that we were already too late. Sbalkal was already too strong. His powers, his knowledge, were too much. He didn't have power enough to defeat both of us, but that would change soon. At some point he even stopped hiding. So we decided to do what we had to do, and in the year 1357 we went after him. Ørsya's plan was to sacrifice herself, and drag Sbalkal's soul with her, breaking his ties with this world. But we underestimated him. He had concealed his true power, and, when Ørsya put her plan into action, we found out that it was going to fail. So I joined her. I gave her all of myself, and that finally worked ... or so we believed. Ørsya died, and with her took what I had given her and part of Sbalkal soul. Part, but not the whole. Due to his evilness, to all the murders and horrible things he had done, his soul broke. Ørsya took part with her, but the majority of it, including its core, remained here. I lost the best and greatest part of my powers, and Sbalkal, wounded and weakened, hid himself, too frail to go on, and yet too strong to die."

"But you said a soul couldn't be in both sides of the barrier!" said Ron.

"It's not easy," said Anwar. The barrier debilitated the connection between the lost part of Sbalkal's soul and his core. The link persisted, but the part on the other side was now useless and, with a maimed soul, Sbalkal lost the best part of his power and the ability to make it grow."

Anwar stopped talking and looked forward. The white house was now visible in the distance, the only discernible thing in the uniform and white surface. Ron looked back, and saw that it was visible there, too.

"Though I still had part of my perception, my ability to manipulate Essence was greatly diminished. I hadn't lost part of my soul, but the best part of the vibration that made me what I was. I knew I would never be what I had been, but I knew, too, that Sbalkal was not dead and would come back. I was sure that I was no longer able to fight him; that, whenever he came back, he would be stronger than me. We were the last, or so I believed then, so, if he managed to kill me, even though he was wounded, he would still be too terrible.

"So I sought the help of wizards and Muggles alike, and tried to find him. But my perception was limited, and I didn't know where he was. I tried to find a new apprentice, someone to teach the secrets of the Universe and the power of Essence manipulation, but I never did. Surely there were people capable of becoming one of us, but we are so rare, and my perception was so diminished that I never found anyone."

"In all this time?" Ron asked, surprised. "Why?"

"You must understand that there's not such thing as a proportion of people that possesses our abilities, Ron. Maybe one person in twenty years gets the power. Sometimes there can be two at the same time, and then maybe no one new appears in a century. Our power is very rare. I suppose it is very hard to create. And so, as population keeps growing, it gets harder and harder to find someone. Besides, as I said, my perception was limited.

"Well, continuing with the story, in 1774 he appeared once more. Weak, but determined as always. He had recovered part of his power, and, though he was maimed and weak, he was still stronger than me and any wizard or Muggle that could help me. But his power was not growing, and so I hoped that, sooner or later, I would be able to find someone to train that could, one day, stop him. I thought he would never be able to regain his old power, as I myself wasn't. But he was not me. The nature of our weaknesses was different, and he already had a plan, a plan that he hid from me until very recently. A plan that has succeeded."

"It has?" Ron asked.

Anwar nodded sadly.

"So he is as powerful as you say he was, then?" said Ron.

"No," Anwar answered.

"Why?"

Anwar didn't answer immediately. Instead, he kept walking, his expression thoughtful, as if he were thinking how to explain.

"When a soul goes back to the other region of dimension zero, it loses most of its vibration. That includes the vibration that gives us power. When Sbalkal recovered his soul, he had to 'heal' it: restore its vibration, something he could do because the soul belonged to him. That has happened, but the best part of his power is lost, for now."

"But how did he get his piece of soul back?"

"Well, you see: though it was still terribly strong, Sbalkal's soul was maimed. His power could not grow. If he made big efforts, he drained himself and had to rest. Just by himself, he could never recover that lost piece of soul. But, as I mentioned before, Sbalkal had shown him his Archway. Pyret manipulated the Essence that constitutes it. What it does is, basically, to narrow the gap between the two regions of Dimension Zero. That's not enough to bring the dead back, but, through it, the links between Essence on the other side and this one get stronger. That's why you can hear the whisper of souls if you've lost someone, because love, Ron, is nothing but some kind of affinity between souls. Sbalkal knew that, with enough power, he could use the Archway to bring the lost part of his _sôhr_ back to this side, and therefore complete himself once more."

"So that's why he let us to take him to court room? Because he wanted to be there?"

"Yes," Anwar said. "The Archway stayed in Egypt for a very long time, with the brain. And it was luck, or maybe it was that Pyret himself had foreseen it, but the presence of the brain was like a barrier for Sbalkal. Had he had his true power, that wouldn't be a problem — after all, the brain is not Pyret. But he was maimed and weak.

"In the first years of the nineteenth century, when Britain had conquered Egypt, the brain and the Archway were brought to London and hid in the Department of Mysteries to be studied. Sbalkal had been trying to get enough power to overcome the barrier imposed by the brain and be able to use the Archway, and when he knew, he came here, too."

"Getting enough power?" Ron repeated, frowning. "How? You said his power doesn't grow."

"He is evil, Ron. He found a way to steal the soul of corrupted people and use it to strengthen his. He is very intelligent, very skilled. He is a master of darkness. Before his defeat, he had done a lot of experiments ... experiments that led to the creation of those terrible beings you know as 'Dementors'.

"WHAT!?" Ron asked. "He — _he created Dementors_?"

"Yes. He had been studying souls for long; they were his particular obsession. To get power, he stole the souls from his followers. I don't know exactly how that works, I don't have his knowledge. I don't know, either, why he didn't do it sooner. But that is the reason he killed them. That's why you found them all in that house."

Ron stopped walking and stared at him, horrified.

"So he is like a Dementor? Like the beings he created?"

"No, though I think the principle is similar. He needed the souls for different reasons than Dementors do. But the power those souls gave him was temporal. He only needed it to overcome the defences of the Ministry, the ones put up by Pyret's brain, and be able to retrieve his lost piece of soul." He sighed. "The plan worked. He is now complete once more, though a great amount of his old power is gone, so he is much weaker than then. But his power is growing again, and soon he will be able to find us and enter this haven. We're running out of time, Ron."

"Find us," Ron repeated. You still hadn't told me where we are."

"Well ... how many dimensions do you think exist, Ron?"

"Well — three," answered Ron. "Width, length and height, isn't it?"

Anwar smiled.

"If you added time, that would make four dimensions. But, actually, we live in an eleven-dimensional universe."

"WHAT?"

"We can only see three, because matter and energy are three-dimensional. But there are nine spatial dimensions, Ron. This place we are in, this haven, is a closed three-dimensional space, separated from the space where you live by distance in the seventh, eighth and ninth dimensions."

"I don't get —"

"Magic works in six dimensions, Ron. That's how the Fidelius charm, or Enlargement charms, work. Magic bends part of the three-dimensional space into any — or several — of dimensions fourth, fifth and sixth. We call that 'dimensional bending'. As we are separated from the 'main' part of the Universe by distance in the seventh, eighth or ninth dimensions, you can use magic to reach it. That's why you can't Apparate there. There's no straight line in any of the first six dimensions that can connect this place to your home. Without that, you cannot Apparate from here to there."

Ron simply stared at him, open-mouthed. _Nine spatial dimensions_?

"Dimension ten is time. And then there's Dimension Zero, which is completely different from the others. It is not a 'classical' dimension. Even rynxes have only ten dimensions. Dimension Zero is divided in two regions, as I've already told you.

"And the Universe is so vast, Ron. So immense. Sbalkal will need time and more power to find us, except if we go in and out to Earth, that way he may be able to trace us. That's why we cannot get out of here. Even though he's still recovering, if he finds us ... there's no way we can stop him. Our only hope is you."

Ron looked forwards. As Anwar had said, the house was now visible on the horizon. And if that was true ...

_Master of Essence_ , he thought, feeling a bit dizzy. _Powerful. Immortal. Is that what I want? Is it even possible? It sounds like a giant joke ..._

He thought about Harry, and then about Hermione. Hermione, his wife, the love of his life, pregnant with his daughter. He had sworn to do anything to protect them ...

"Wait a moment," he said, looking at Anwar. "That man who saved Hermione. You said Sbalkal and you were the last Masters of Essence. Who's he then?"

"That, Ron, is a great question."

"What? You don't know?" he exclaimed, bewildered. "Didn't you say you are connected to _everything_?"

"He's got our powers, yes. That much is clear. But his identity? I don't know. He's using his own power to conceal himself. My power is not enough to penetrate his disguise. I know he's a man just because of the people he has talked to. Twenty four years ago, there was a strange disturbance in space-time that affected me. I suppose Sbalkal was affected as well. And a few days later, he appeared for the first time. He came out of a heaven like this one, placed in another location. But how he got in there is a mystery. I was sure Sbalkal and I were the last ones ... I don't know where he came from. The Universe is so vast, so immense, that even with our powers, we cannot observe it entirely, except at a large scale. That man appeared a few times, but never for long, and then he went back to his hiding place. I tried to trace him, but he knows how to conceal his actions, and I wasn't powerful enough. Neither was Sbalkal, I think ... though of course, he became much more powerful a few years ago, after he took the first soul."

"And why isn't he helping, then?" asked Ron, furious. "He saved Hermione! Why hasn't he done anything else? Why didn't he save Julie, or the others? Why did he allow Sbalkal to steal the Archway?"

"I don't know, Ron. I wish I did."

Ron didn't say anything for a while, he simply walked around in circles, his gaze fixed on the white ground.

"I still can't believe I can become a — a Master of Essence. It — it sounds absurd. Bloody hell, _it is absurd!_ All this talk about the Universe and dimensions and forces of the nature. I barely paid attention in Astronomy, and this seems more complicated that Arithmancy and Ancient Runes combined."

"Even I can't completely understand your case. But if you accept, you'll discover the truth about everything."

Ron remained silent for a while.

"What if I refuse?"

"It doesn't matter what you do, Ron. Sbalkal knows about you, and will try to kill you. Hermione, your daughter ... you cannot protect them as a wizard. Those dreams you've been having these past months, Ron ... it's your instincts, telling you that you need to be trained to be able to protect them. Besides, didn't you promise Julie you'd defeat Sbalkal?"

Ron looked at Anwar, thinking.

"Now you mention that ... Why is Sbalkal so interested in my daughter? Do you know?"

"Maybe because he wanted to know if she had inherited your ability," Anwar said. "You're the first people with the ability to become a Master of Essence to ever have a child — at least, that we know of."

"What?" Ron asked, surprised. "The first?"

Anwar looked at him.

"As I told you, wizards and witches have children with magical powers. Though you can't use your powers, because your mind is not ready, they are very developed in your soul. Maybe Sbalkal thinks our powers can work the same way, and can be inherited if one of the parents has developed them. None of the Masters of Essence that were trained have ever had children."

Ron frowned. "Why not?"

"I'll tell you the truth, Ron. Though through our empathy we love humanity as a whole and value life above everything else, none of us have ever fallen in love with anyone. We simply can't. We're very different from the rest of the people, and not just because we're immortal. Being in love is something that surges between equals, Ron. Our powers, our knowledge ... means that we are not like normal people. We can't be in love with a normal person. Our power, our perception ... they cannot understand it. They cannot understand us," he added, giving him a meaningful look.

Ron stared at him. "What are you trying to say?"

"There's a big decision ahead of you, Ron. If you don't become one of us, we all shall die. Sooner or later, he'll find this place. But if you do ... then you'll find, one day, that you're no longer in love with Hermione, that she's not enough for you.

"Whichever choice you take, your relationship with her is over, Ron. I'm sorry."

* * *

_Well, now you know what Sbalkal is and how he does what he can do. You also know why nobody could find Ron. You also know what Sbalkal really wanted, that it was him who killed the Attackers in that house and why._

_If you like Physics, maybe you've already associated the idea of _rynxes_ with Planck's time and Planck's length. Those are the measures of a rynx. Also, the 10-dimensional Universe (with the addition of Dimension Zero) is an idea I picked from the strings theory, it fitted very well. I loved the idea of three groups of three spatial dimensions. There're more explanations to come in next chapters. And if after that it isn't enough for you, I'd be happy to give you an essay about the theory that would explain everything (how 'dimensional bending' works, for example)._

_Now, I'd really like to know you opinion on this chapter. And if you have doubts, please ask, because what it's explained here is __**essential**__ for the story._

_See you around Wednesday!_


	24. Pyret

_Well, are your heads okay? I hope so, 'cause this chapter explains more things._

_I know you all are worried about Anwar's last sentence to Ron. I told you through my replies to your reviews, but let me tell it again for everyone and for those who review anonymously._

_When Anwar says that Ron's relationship with Hermione will be over, doesn't mean that Ron will lose his ability to love, it means that, due to the way he'll change, he will fall out of love with her. In fact, as you'll see, Masters of Essence do love, and in ways far beyond our imagination — they just don't fall in love in with 'normal' people, something I believe is very realistic. We are very different. Can a Master of Essence and a mortal human form a couple? Would you share your life with someone that can always know what you're thinking or feeling? That's an important question, and I wouldn't be a good writer if I ignored things just to get the end I want._

_Anyway, there's still a long road until the end. Remember that there is a Part III..._

_And talking about parts, once you read this chapter, there will only be two chapters left of part II._

_As always, many thanks to __**Kathy**__ for her help with this chapter._

* * *

**PART II**

**TALES OF OLD SECRETS**

_**Chapter 24**_

**Pyret**

* * *

Ron stared at Anwar, dumbstruck. So this was it? Either they all died, or he would find, one day, that he was no longer in love with Hermione, the woman with whom he had thought he would spend his entire life?

_But of course, if I become one of them, I'll never get old, I'll live hundreds, maybe thousands of years ... and she won't. _The thought made him feel lightheaded.

_Hundreds, thousands of years._

He would see all the people he knew and loved die. His parents, his brothers, his sisters-in-law, his nephews and nieces, his friends, Harry, Ginny, Hermione ...and even his own daughter. How could a person stand that?

He shook his head. Was he thinking about the consequences of _being immortal_? All this made no sense.

"This — this is ridiculous. I'm not one of you, I haven't got those powers and —"

"I know the idea may seem overwhelming to you, Ron. But I assure you you've got our powers. Once you're trained you'll feel differently. Yes, you'll feel sad when those people you love die. I know everything about that, but still, our love for life and our desire to live and learn will make you go on. You'll feel attached to humankind as a whole, not to individual people. It is easier that way."

"It is Hermione who has an unlimited desire to learn, not me," replied Ron. "I don't even understand how I came here or how those supposed powers I've got have been developing! You haven't told me what happened to me when Pyret's brain attacked me!"

"You should know by now," Anwar said. "But you woke up sooner than we expected. I don't know why. These three weeks, your mind has been being prepared to understand your powers and accept them. You can't deny it, Ron, because whether you're conscious of it or not, you have started to accept what you are."

"Prepared?" Ron snapped angrily, ignoring the rest of things Anwar had said. "What do you mean? What have you been doing to me?"

"It's what lies within your own mind which is preparing you," Anwar replied calmly. "Maybe you're in denial now, but everything's making sense. What really matters now, Ron, is that you are our last hope against Sbalkal. Are you going to let me train you?" he asked.

Ron looked towards the horizon once more, not wanting Anwar to see his face. This was it. The Question. And everything was happening too fast. "I suppose I don't have a choice, do I?" he said after a while. "I mean, if I don't do this, Sbalkal will kill us all."

"You _do_ have a choice."

"Yeah, watching the people I love being killed by Sbalkal and then being killed myself. What a choice!" Ron snapped.

"A bad choice is still a choice."

"I can't let them die," said Ron. "I can't allow that monster to lay his hands upon my daughter. But I'll tell you this," he added, his eyes fixed on Anwar's. "It doesn't matter if I live one hundred years or a thousand. Hermione and I have gone through so much together, and it doesn't matter what I become, what I know or what I can do — she'll never stop amazing me, and I won't ever stop loving her, do you hear me? Never!"

Anwar didn't say anything, but looked at him with ... pity? As if Ron was just a child that believed in fairytales.

"I still have questions, though," added Ron, and, a moment later, he asked, "Do I have a chance?"

"I don't know," Anwar said. "Your time is limited."

"How long does it take for a person to be trained?"

"It depends," Anwar answered. "Several years."

"YEARS?" shouted Ron. "We haven't got years!"

"Changing the way humans think takes time, Ron, even if they're still very young, which you aren't. But fortunately you are different. Pyret's brain changed you. As I told you, these weeks you've been sleeping, you've been changing. Your mind has been being prepared. That process hasn't finished, though. We've got to go back to the house, and once there, I'll put you back into that deep slumber you were in. What remains of Pyret's mind will take care of the rest. So, if you've made your choice, let's go."

"What, now?"

"Of course. Is there something else you want to do that is more important?"

"YES!" he yelled. "I need to talk to Hermione! I need to —"

"There's no time!" Anwar yelled. "There's no time, Ron! And we cannot take that risk! No one can get out of here until you're ready. Didn't I make myself clear? We cannot risk opening the entrance to this place, not even to send a message. If Sbalkal finds us —"

"HERMIONE IS PREGNANT!" Ron yelled back. "My daughter will be born in less than three months! I want to be there with her! I need to be there with her! And she — she needs me!"

"More than you being alive? More than you being able to stop Sbalkal from taking your daughter if she happens to inherit your abilities?"

Ron had no argument against that. He clenched his fists and closed his eyes tightly, but still, two tears got out and slid down his cheeks. "This is unfair," he muttered. "It is terribly unfair."

"I know it's unfair."

Ron looked away.

"Is she okay?" he asked in a feeble voice.

"She's at Harry and Ginny's house," Anwar answered. "Harry made her move in with them. She is sad and worried, but otherwise all right. She's strong."

Ron nodded. "I know," he said. "She'll be okay with Harry. He'll — he'll take care of her."

"Shall we go back to the house, then?" Anwar asked.

Ron nodded, feeling miserable. He wasn't sure if he had really accepted what was happening, and yet, another part of him felt as if he had been preparing for this all his life.

_And maybe I've been_, he thought_. After all, whatever that brain did to me, happened ten years ago ... and then what Anwar said about these last three weeks ..._

Was this how Harry had always felt? Pushed towards a destiny he didn't want, a destiny that, in a way, he could avoid, but never would, because by doing so he would put in jeopardy not only his life, but countless others.

They walked towards the distant house, more quickly than before, and in silence. Ron didn't felt like talking, and Anwar seemed to sense that.

It took nearly an hour for them to arrive at the house. They had walked in a straight line and ended at the point where they had started. It was enough to drive a person mad.

They walked around the house and saw Antoine and another witch in at least her late fifties or sixties. Both were sitting on the chairs under the trees.

"He is going to be trained," Anwar told them.

"Congratulations, Mr Weasley," the witch said with a sincere and kind smile. "We're so glad to hear that. You are our last hope."

"Yeah, thanks," muttered Ron harshly, not bothering to hide his disgust.

"Aren't you pleased?" the witch continued, surprised. "The knowledge and power you're going to get —"

Ron looked away. Power and knowledge. Knowledge had never been one of his main priorities. Yes, he liked knowing things, but he wasn't obsessed about it. That was Hermione's thing. And power ... Yes, there had been a time when he had craved it. And even when Harry had decided not to keep the Elder Wand, he had felt a bit disappointed. But that had been long ago. What would he want power for now? He had a good job; he had Hermione; he had his family; and he was going to have a daughter. Yes, this power could save all that, but at what cost? And not even Anwar could guarantee him that it would be enough.

He thought about Hermione again, alone, worried sick about him, and felt his heart break for her. This was so unfair ...

And then his mind wandered to that other person, the cloaked man that once had saved her, and felt an irrational, corrosive hate towards him. Why hadn't he done anything to stop this? Why hadn't he fought Sbalkal? Why had he let this happen? Clenching his fists, he forced himself to leave that train of thought before he started kicking things. He turned to face Anwar.

"Let's begin," he said, trying to sound more determined that how he really felt.

Anwar made a gesture for him to walk ahead, and Ron went into the house and made his way to the room in which he had woken up.

"Lie down, please," Anwar asked.

Ron stared at him for a few seconds, and then did as told, not even bothering to take off his boots.

Anwar approached him and put his right hand on his forehead.

"See you, Ron."

And then, Ron felt very tired and sleepy all of a sudden. He tried to keep his eyes open, but the light around him seemed to be dimming, and his eyelids were becoming incredibly heavy ...

The absolute, almost solid darkness that surrounded him began to fade slowly, overcome by a soft light that seemed to come from below him, and then Ron found himself lying on a smooth, white and endless surface that was completely barren. Above him, there was a pitch-black sky without a Sun, Moon or stars. He looked down and realised he was stark naked.

"What the —?"

"Hi, Ron," a soft, calming voice said behind him.

He turned round instantly, startled, and saw that, at ten feet from him, a man was standing, dressed in a simple white robe that contrasted a lot against the blackness of the sky. His skin was brown; his eyes, of a stunning green, were big and kind, and his dark hair was medium-long, reaching the bottom of his ears. Ron didn't need him to say who he was: Pyret, the most powerful among the Masters of Essence.

Ron leapt to his feet, not caring about his nakedness, which was a bit surprising to him. But he felt some familiarity towards this man that he couldn't really explain.

"Pyret," Ron said.

"Pleased to meet you at last. Although, if I am sincere, I already know you perfectly."

"I wish I could say the same," replied Ron, keeping in mind that this ... person had lived inside his head for ten years, had attacked and hurt him without his consent, and, in some way, was responsible for him being in that Nowhere. Though maybe they weren't there now.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"Why do you ask?" Pyret asked back. "You know the answer to that question."

"Inside my mind," said Ron, and he looked around once more. He expected his mind to be filled with something more than an endless white desert covered by a black void. "Not very impressive, I think. I believed I had more things in my head."

Pyret smiled.

"This is just a space, but of course, you can fill it with whatever you want. You can even dress yourself, if you will."

"So this is like that place where Harry told Hermione and me he had been, after Voldemort killed him?" Ron asked, seeing how, just by imagining it, he was dressed in soft robes.

"Yes and no," Pyret answered. "Harry met Dumbledore at the barrier, or the veil, that separates both sides of Dimension Zero. You are just inside your mind, now entangled with what is left of mine. And I am not someone from the dead. I'm not really Pyret, Ron. Pyret is dead, has been for a long time. I'm an advanced presence that holds his memories and knowledge, like those Hogwarts Headmasters' portraits, but better designed and much more powerful."

"So you're the one who attacked me while my friends needed me. The one who messed with my head, and is responsible for me being here."

"I am," said Pyret. "And I'd add I am the reason why Sbalkal has caused you so much pain as well. But if you're expecting an apology you're not going to get one. I'm not going to apologise because I don't regret what I've done. I did what I had too, and, in the end, if you're alive it is thanks to me."

Ron frowned at him. "Well, if I'm not getting an apology, I expect to get an explanation, then. And soon."

Pyret stared into the distance, his face etched with a sorrowful expression.

"Sbalkal's my biggest regret," he began to say. "I perceived his potential during one of my travels across Europe. I met him when he was just a boy, and revealed myself to him. Ah, the potential I saw in him! It was far greater than the others, Hi-Shu's and Ørsya's. He was so eager to learn, so intelligent and extraordinary. I spent many years with him, and yet I never saw what lay hidden inside him. Well, I have to say, in my defence, that when he was younger he wasn't like he is now. In a way, I suppose I'm partially to blame for the way he turned out. When I told him I was tired and wanted to die ... well, you saw it. My memories are in your head now, after all. He called me weak; he told me he despised me. Of course, he had started to change long before that; he had decided he would never die willingly. We had already had our differences before then, but telling him what I was planning to do was the last straw. We never talked again, and during the years I lived thenceforth he kept a low profile, not giving me a real cause to kill him. When I left this world, I didn't know what he would become. Had I known, I would have finished him off. I had power enough to do so. But I didn't, and Hi-Shu, Ørsya and countless others paid with their lives for my mistake."

Pyret sighed and looked into the distance.

"There were a lot of things I knew I hadn't showed anyone," he continued. "Sbalkal was the one I taught the most, and, even so, I never told him everything. For instance, though I showed him the Archway, I never explained to him how it worked, and how I had managed to build it and to change the vibration of its Essence that gives it its extraordinary properties. He was not very interested in it. Amazed, but not too interested. He was immortal. What interest could he have in Death?" He sighed once more. "It would have been better if I had never built it. If I had known ..." He shook his head. "Well, as I was saying, I had a lot of knowledge, and, not wanting to let it go to waste, I preserved my brain with the help of a few wizards. It was filled with an extreme amount of power. My intention was that it would help humanity to progress. As it happened, my brain and the Archway were studied by a lot of people — Cadmus Peverell, for example."

"Peverell?" repeated Ron, surprised. "You mean as in the Peverells, the supposed creators of the Deathly Hallows?"

"The very same. When he saw the Archway for the first time, during a travel to Egypt, he became instantly fascinated by it. He had lost someone he loved deeply, and so he studied it for a long time. Of course he was unable to understand how it worked, but comprehended that there was something in the stone and the veil, something more than magic, that made it work. And so, when he left, he took a little piece of it, a piece that was later turned into the Resurrection Stone."

"What!?" gasped Ron, astounded by the unexpected information. "That stone came from the Archway?"

"How do you think it works?" Pyret asked him. "Of course, as you very well know, it doesn't resurrect anyone. It just creates a connection to the souls on the other side when there's a link between the invoker and the invoked. Love, usually, is one of the most powerful links there are. Magic, by itself, could never do what the Stone does. Its true power comes from the special properties the Essence that constitutes its matter possesses, and though separated from it, it still belongs to the same entity as the Archway. That's why attacking with Gryffindor's sword destroyed the Horcrux, but breaking it beyond magical repair didn't make it loose its properties as the Resurrection Stone. Cadmus was rather brilliant.

"Anyway, around the beginning of the nineteenth century, British wizards brought the Archway and my brain here. By then, Sbalkal had tried to steal the Archway once, so I guessed he had realised he could use it to get the lost part of his _sôhr_. I was able to thwart him then, and knew I could do it again, though not forever. I hoped that, someday, Anwar would find a person with the potential to become a Master of Essence."

"But that never happened," Ron said.

"No," confirmed Pyret. "Anwar had to hide after a while. Sbalkal would have killed him otherwise. At some point, Sbalkal discovered a way to become strong enough to be able to use the Archway. He failed multiple times, of course. Taking in a soul the way he pretended is not easy. The soul had to be chosen carefully, and even so, it is very difficult. He no longer was powerful enough to conduct the sort of experiments that led to the creation of Dementors. Evil as he was, he needed not any soul, but a very corrupted and dark soul, weakened so he could dominate it. I know he failed several times. So, at some point, he stopped trying, to determine what had been wrong and find the right soul. And he finally did it, years later, when he found out the existence of Tom Riddle before he had been born."

"WHAT? _Tom Riddle?_" Ron asked. "What has he got to do with this? What do you mean?"

"Sbalkal arranged everything," Pyret explained. "Oh, I'm not saying that Riddle became a bad person because of Sbalkal. But he made sure Riddle's path to evilness was clear; he made his mother ill, so she died after giving birth, leaving him alone; he helped him find out he was Slytherin's heir ... and he led him to discovering about Horcruxes."

"But — why?"

"He needed him to be evil and weak. Voldemort, believing he was making himself immortal, ripped his own soul several times. As you know, that is something that can't be done only through magic. Your own actions help cause it. Voldemort went beyond usual evil, but he was never meant to live forever. And as you destroyed the Horcruxes, one by one, Sbalkal took the freed pieces of soul, terribly weakened, and he _devoured_ them, using them to patch his own soul, making himself stronger. When Voldemort was finally defeated by Harry, he took part of the last piece; everything but the very core of it."

"So — so the war, it was —"

"In a way, yes, just a game. Sbalkal hoped for Voldemort to last a bit longer — not much, but longer, so his soul would become even more corrupted. He had to take five pieces of his soul that night of the last battle, you see. For a long time he had to wait and hide, while he assimilated that soul. With his own soul maimed and weak, it took him years. He knew that was not enough, though, and he began to search for people on whom he could put his mark, so he could devour their souls too and be strong enough to accomplish his final purpose. And that is what he did: he sought out people — murderer-wannabes, and put his mark on their souls. He told them what they wanted to hear, convinced them, and ordered them to kill, to torture, and to unleash their evilness with the sole purpose of them becoming evil enough so he could, one day, kill them and make himself stronger with their souls, which he did that day you found him in Hogsmeade."

"Oh, Merlin ..." Ron said. "All those people murdered ... _for nothing_."

"Well, Sbalkal wouldn't say that," Pyret said. "He would say that they were doomed to die already, and that they contributed to something great — him."

"He's nothing but a murderer," retorted Ron in an angry voice.

"Unfortunately for you, he's much more than that," said Pyret. "But you see how the Universe works. Sbalkal believed that the will of Essence was on his side, when he found out, almost by chance, about the existence of Tom Riddle. It made him believe that he was destined to get his power back and rule over the whole Universe. But that fact and the plan he had set into motion, also gave us you."

Ron stared up at him.

"Yes, Ron. Because of Voldemort's intentions, you were drawn into the Department of Mysteries ten years ago. And I perceived you there, the unmistakable — though weak — potential in your soul." Ron opened his mouth, now listening even more attentively than before, the images of that day replaying in his mind. "You were not what I expected, and yet, too many years had passed and a true Master of Essence hadn't been found. I was confined to the Department of Mysteries, and only could perceive and study those who were close to my brain. Anwar was unable to search, as he had to hide from Sbalkal. My power was vanishing. Sbalkal's plan was going well, and soon he would be more powerful. I knew I had to do something. Besides, your heart was in the right place. You were a bit insecure, but loyal. I knew it had to be you. However, the potential I saw in you wouldn't have been enough; I might have overlooked it if it hadn't been for an extraordinary fact for which I still haven't found an explanation."

"What fact?"

"Your power _was already growing_," Pyret said. "Do you get how strange that is? You hadn't been trained, and your power was not the minimum necessary for your training, and yet it was growing! Sbalkal's plan was going well; we couldn't wait anymore. I took it as a sign. The battle started, and I was very aware that I could lose you. And so I guided you back to the Mind Room, and when you were hit by that spell and driven out of your mind, I could finally reach you fully, and made you cast the Summoning Spell on my brain. It flew towards you, and when we touched, I implanted myself as deep inside you as possible."

"So you've been living inside me all this time? Like a ... parasite?"

"I'd say that, rather than parasitical, our relationship has been symbiotic."

"Symbiotic."

"Symbiotic, yes. Beneficial for the both of us."

"You could have helped us!" said Ron, now more than a bit angry. "We could have died that day. Hermione almost —"

"Who says I didn't?" interrupted Pyret. "I did help you, just a little, or you would have died. But I couldn't waste my power on that, Ron. I had to protect the Archway from Sbalkal, and by implanting myself in you, the power of the brain didn't regenerate."

"So you helped us, okay. But I don't see how that has anything to do with our relationship being 'symbiotic.' The days after the attack weren't easy. The scars hurt like hell and I suffered horrible nightmares!"

"My brain was not like the others," answered Pyret. "That ointment Madam Pomfrey gave you erased the superficial traces, like the nightmares. By the way, sorry for that, but messing with minds is bound to cause side effects. Anyway, the true change was not those scars, or those nightmares; it was deeper, Ron. I began to change your soul. You've got to comprehend that I came to understand more about Essence than anyone else in history. I even started to understand the secret behind the vibration that gives us our powers. I began to change your soul, Ron, strengthening it, by using your growing powers myself. That made them grow faster, and also helped me to strengthen the protection around the Department of Mysteries."

Ron stared at him. He had suspected that, it was the only thing that made sense, and yet, somehow, it didn't make sense at all.

"But I never noticed anything!" he yelled. "And if you were doing that, strengthening my soul, then why was I the weakest against the Horcrux's effects? And I'm not making excuses; I know I was an arse, as Hermione put it."

Hermione. Her name brought memories of her, and those memories were painful to bear now that he was so far away from her.

"Your soul changed, Ron, not your mind. The Horcrux messed with your mind, not your soul. You were not possessed in any way. Look, wizards are difficult to be trained as Masters of Essence, because of the way you think; you rely on Magic too much, not really bothering to understand what lies under it. But of course you noticed some effects. Weren't you so keen on not saying Voldemort's name?"

Ron huffed. "I never said the name. I grew up hearing about it; I feared it."

"Yes, but you never forbid Harry or Hermione from saying it, did you? Until then. Deep inside you, you knew it was dangerous. You _sensed_ it, but you couldn't understand the reasons, so you blamed your previous fear of the name. And when you started working at the Ministry, you pressed to enforce security, didn't you? And more recently, sometimes, in Sbalkal's presence, you've felt something...you've felt him and the danger he presented."

Ron snorted. "I saw him at St Mungo's and never noticed anything!"

"Because then he was using all his power to conceal himself. You had no reason to fear him. But you considered him a threat when he was acting like himself, and so those times it was easier for you to perceive him."

Ron grunted.

"So I've been getting more powerful during these past years?" he asked. "Without knowing it?"

"Yes," Pyret responded. "Still, you haven't got the potential Mara had, for example. You would have never discovered your powers by yourself. And besides, you don't have the right mind for the job; you aren't enough curious or eager to seek knowledge beyond the ordinary. Don't take it offence to that."

"I don't; don't worry."

"But, besides helping you, Ron, you helped me. I used your own power to feed my brain, to enhance the defences around the Department of Mysteries. And you helped to do that, too, with those ideas about magically protecting the place. Magic barriers mean nothing to Sbalkal now, but then, dismantling them meant using his power, wasting it. And that's why he attacked you during the trial, Ron. With you unconscious, fighting for your life, I couldn't fight as hard against him. He was too powerful; he would have defeated me nonetheless, but maybe then he would have had to wait until he was strong enough to use the Archway, instead of doing it right away."

Ron was speechless. Everything made sense now. Everything ... but one thing.

"But why didn't he kill me, then? He could have! By what you say, he knew there was a connection between your brain and me! Why didn't he kill me? He would have gotten rid of two enemies at once!"

"Because he needed some knowledge about the Archway, Ron. He needed my brain. But we were totally connected. Your death would have meant the destruction of my brain and the loss of that knowledge he so desperately needed." Pyret stared directly into Ron's eyes. "That's why I left that knowledge there. I could have put all my knowledge in your mind, and he wouldn't have been able to get it. But I knew it was very possible he discovered what I was doing with you. He would have killed you years ago if he didn't need the brain. When he used his power to assault it, the resulting connection caused the seizure you experienced at the hospital. When Sbalkal attacked my brain, you suffered, too. The moment he destroyed it, I stopped existing at all, and remained just as something that lived inside you. And when you blacked out, I did what I had planned to do all along. I used your own powers to make Hermione fall asleep, and then took control of you. I had to take you here, where Anwar is, and hide you while Sbalkal was too weak to trace you."

"You took control of me," repeated Ron, his voice filled with anger. "You made Hermione fall asleep. You didn't let me explain."

"There was no time," Pyret said, obviously not regretting what he had done. "Don't get angry at me. It is pointless. Now that the brain was destroyed, I'm nothing but a program carrying out a plan. I'll soon disappear. I wrote that note, because you fought so hard against me. You didn't want to leave her, but it was essential you did. That note was something like a deal. And then I dragged you here, while Sbalkal was still weak from the joining and couldn't discover the entrance."

Ron didn't know what to say. He — and Harry and Hermione — were just pawns in this game, a game that hadn't finished. And did they have another choice but to play?

"So he knew about me, then," commented Ron. "Sbalkal, I mean."

"Yes," said Pyret. "I tried to conceal you, Ron, but my guess is that he discovered you at some point. Maybe that night, the night the war ended, when he was at Hogwarts. I can't be sure. But he knew you were a menace; I think that's part of the reason why he wanted you and Harry off his case for as long as possible. Not that you could have really changed things, but he was tired of waiting, I assume."

"And why didn't you tell me this sooner, before all this happened?" Ron asked, furious. "I could have explained to Hermione; maybe we could have prevented all this!"

"You weren't ready," Pyret told him. "Maybe you think that, even if you were weaker, with Sbalkal not being complete you could have stopped him. But to help you as I'm doing, I would have to give up my brain. That would have meant he could have got the Archway."

"But without your brain, he wouldn't have known how to use it, would he?" Ron retorted.

"He would have discovered how it works, sooner or later." Anwar explained. He made a short pause, and then began to talk again. "Ron, during these years, I've enhanced your powers, and made them grow, even though you were not trained. That effect is lost now. I can't do that anymore. During these past weeks, I gave my mind to you. I worked in changing yours, in preparing it so your training is faster than anyone else in history. This talk should already have happened, you see. I should have been the one that explained everything about us to you. But you remembered Hermione and woke up too soon." He sighed. "When this conversation ends, whatever remains of me, and my personality, will be gone. I won't be an influence anymore. You'll have my knowledge and memories, though you won't have the power to use most of it. I can't assure you that it will be enough to beat Sbalkal. But if this had happened sooner, believe me, maybe you wouldn't have been powerful enough to complete your training. That would have meant a disaster, even if what's happening now happened in a few years."

Ron huffed. He was angry, and he needed to vent out his frustration, but Pyret didn't make that easy, or even possible. All his reasons seemed valid; at least, from his point of view. And besides, he had lived for more than two thousand years, and even after dying, his mind — or part of it — had kept working. The possibility of Ron outsmarting him or pointing out a fact he hadn't thought of was zero.

"So now what?" he asked.

"Now I'll give your mind a last push," he said. "You'll be unconscious, and when you wake up, Anwar will begin to train you. The odds are against you, Ron, so you'd better work as hard as you can."

_Wonderful_, Ron thought. _This will do a lot for my confidence. _But then he realised he — and Pyret — were _inside_ his mind and that speaking or thinking was just the same thing.

"The other man. Do you know who he is?"

"No," Pyret answered. "He's a mystery to me as he is to you or Anwar. Had I had my old powers, I could tell you."

"Could he have, I don't know, trained himself? Like Mara?"

"No," Pyret said. "To do so, he would have to be born with an extraordinary potential. Sbalkal, Anwar, or even my brain, would have detected him."

"Then where could he have come from? The future, thanks to a time-turner?"

"I invented time-turners, Ron. I showed wizards how to use them. We don't need them. We can travel through time as we do through space, so yes, he _could_ have come from the future, though that possibility is unlikely. No one of us would ever do that."

"Why not?"

"Why would you travel to the past?"

"To change something."

"You can't change the past."

"Why not?" Ron asked, frowning. "Harry and Hermione did!"

"Harry and Hermione didn't change anything. They helped things to happen the way they had."

"But —" Ron felt completely puzzled. "But they _could _have changed something. If they had captured Pettigrew ..."

"Then you would remember that happening. I repeat, you cannot change the past."

"Why not?" Ron insisted.

"Well, there are two answers to that question. The simple one is that you cannot change it, because _it is the past_. It's already happened."

"But if you go back, and you change something ..." Ron insisted.

"Then what? You'd remember something that didn't happen? How?"

"Well," Ron said, thinking about it. "I once watched two of those Muggle films with Hermione. _Terminator_ or something like that. And there, a machine travelled to the past to change things. Then in the second part they were able to stop the war from happening. I asked her how could the machine be there, if it would never be built, and she told me something about timelines."

"Yes," Pyret said. "Timelines. That's Muggle explanation to such paradoxes. Different timelines. Well, that is nothing but rubbish. There's nothing like different timelines. There's only one timeline. That is something no one can change."

"But Anwar told me that Masters of Essence were able to change the laws of Magic and Physics ..."

"Yes, because those laws are a consequence of what we call 'the will of Essence,' as Anwar also explained. But there are some fundamental laws, Ron. Laws that no one, not even us, can break. I suppose I could explain them to you, so you are readier when you wake up."

A comfortable armchair appeared out of nowhere, and Pyret sat down on it. Ron stared at him.

"You can have one, too, if you want. Your mind, your rules, Ron."

So Ron thought about a similar armchair, and it appeared at once. He sat down.

"The first thing you must do, and it is the hardest of them all, is to forget all you think you know about the world. Laws of Physics and Magic are unavoidable through Physics and Magic, but not if you can manipulate Essence directly. For example, Muggles believe that energy and matter can't be created or destroyed. And, though under 'normal' circumstances that is true, they are wrong. Matter and energy are just forms of Essence. And the energy of matter, like kinetic energy, is nothing but a state of vibration. We can create energy, simply by changing the state of vibration of something, so you can forget about all those laws and limitations. The only laws that cannot be broken are four. We call them the Fundamental Laws of Essence, and thus, of the Universe.

"The first of them is called '_Eternity of Essence_.' An impressive name that simply means that Essence cannot be created or destroyed. This, however, doesn't mean the amount of Essence in the Universe is always constant. Density of Essence can fluctuate, and, in fact, it fluctuates all the time. Amounts of Essence can disappear from one point — or better, a rynx, or group of rynxes — and appear in another. When you Apparate, you do exactly that. This usually happens through movement, what, as Anwar told you, is nothing but transference of properties from adjacent rynxes. But it can happen between non-adjacent rynxes, too. Those rynxes usually are separated by space, but it can also happen through time. But even so, the Law is enforced. If a certain amount of Essence disappears, it will appear at another point in space ... or at another point in time. Again, if Essence appears, either it has already disappeared or will disappear. Travel time is proof of this. When Harry and Hermione appeared using the time-turner all those years ago, the quantity of Essence increased. But the same quantity disappeared, when their past selves travelled to the past three hours later. Do you understand?"

"I'm trying to," said Ron.

"These transferences of Essence between non-adjacent points in space and time happen all the time, at a microscopic level, and usually, within very small distances and periods of time. Muggles call this phenomenon 'quantum fluctuations.'"

Ron simply stared at him.

"The second Law is the Fundamental Law of Space-Time. Basically, it says that there are no empty rynxes."

"I don't understand."

"You know what rynxes are. The smallest portion of space during the shortest period of time. It is important that you understand that time is defined by change. If you take all rynxes in the same spatial position during the timeline of the Universe, they form what we call the 'rynx timeline.' Two adjacent rynxes in a timeline can't ever have the same properties of Essence. Usually, it means that the state of vibration for that rynx changes. As a rynx is the smallest period of time, during it, Essence doesn't change. Rynxes are static. However, when a rynx 'transforms' into the next, something must change. Time does not make sense without change.

"The second law says that the amount of Essence in a rynx can never be zero. Rynxes make no sense without Essence. Space and time make no sense without Essence. The distribution of Essence creates space, and its change creates time. The implications of this law, Ron, are very deep. For starters, it means that it can't exist as a 'limit' in space, a direction towards which you can't move. If you reached a potential limit, you could go on, as your own Essence would create new space. That, in fact, is what happens with time. Time is created by Essence's changes. In fact, as far as Essence is concerned, we are always in the limit of time, extending it. That means that future does not exist, we create the present, which then becomes the past."

"So, in short, there's no empty space and time is created constantly by changes?"

"Yes."

"Okay," Ron nodded, though he wasn't sure he understood it.

"The third Law is called 'Equivalence of Rynxes.' That law says that the laws of Essence, its behaviour, and consequentially, Magical and Physical laws, are the same for every rynx, for every point in space at any moment of time. It means that, apart from the particular state of Essence in each rynx, they are undistinguishable, except for the differences between the two regions of Dimension Zero."

"Well, it makes sense," Ron said.

"Yes, it does. And it seems a pretty simple law, and yet its implications are very deep. For starters, this law implies that space is closed, that every line is a circle. Every rynx is the centre of the Universe. If there was a 'border' or a frontier, then nothing could go past the rynxes in there, so those rynxes would have special properties. It also implies that it is possible to travel to the past, but never to the future."

"Why not? Time-turners —"

"Time-turners can only take you to the past," explained Pyret. "I told you, Ron, change creates time. You cannot travel to the future because that would mean you're transferring Essence to rynxes that don't exist."

"The past doesn't exist, either!"

"Of course it exists. Rynxes are static, they are never destroyed. The past is real. When you travel from one location to another, space isn't destroyed behind you, is it?"

"No," said Ron. "And so, if you travel to the past, then you could come back, couldn't you?"

"No," said Pyret. "And that's why no one of us would go to the past. You could never come back; you would have to wait for time to go by. Remember that the laws of Essence are the same for every rynx, Ron. If you go to the past, for all purposes you would be in the front line of time. It doesn't matter that you know what's going to happen. It still has to happen. Imagine this: we cannot travel to the future. But someone from the future comes back. Then, according to you, the future already exists. Then we could travel to the future, too, could we? But we can't! I'm telling you, all rynxes are equivalent. To Essence, it is always the present. If you go to the past, the past becomes the present for you.

"You may think that this breaks the rules of causality, as things appear in the past because they disappear from a future that technically does not exist yet. But that's because you think like a normal person. When you see the world in eleven dimensions, you'll understand. Look at it this way: instead of thinking of Harry and Hermione appearing in the past because they disappeared in the present, think of it as Harry and Hermione disappearing in the future because they appeared in the past."

"This is giving me a headache."

"I know it's complicated, but you'll understand it. One day, these Laws will be as familiar to you as breathing."

"Yeah, sure," said Ron sarcastically.

"And then there's the last Law, Immutability of Rynxes," Pyret continued, ignoring Ron's tone. "This Law states that the state of Essence in a rynx can never be modified. Once created, rynxes are eternal. It is logical, if you think about it, because rynxes represent the minimum time possible."

"But, then, _what _changes when time passes?"

"Another rynx is added to the rynx timeline. That rynx is different from the previous one. But the rynx in itself never changes. And that's why the past cannot be changed, Ron. Because one rynx cannot have two states of Essence. Once it is created, it cannot be changed. There are no multiple timelines, only one. If changing the past were possible, don't you think loads of people would have done it?"

"Well —"

"This is the true reason the past cannot be changed. That it _already happened_, as I told you before, is a consequence of this Law. Time-travel paradoxes, like the famous one in which someone travels to the past and kills his father, so he isn't ever born, are not possible."

"But if you can go, what would stop you from doing it? Changing something, I mean."

"It is not that you _can't_. It is that you _won't_. Or rather, that you _didn't_. If you went to the past and changed something, then you'd remember it differently, wouldn't you? I'll explain it this way: imagine you go to the day you started Hogwarts. Your old self is there, in your room, and you think about telling him what awaits you that year. Will you do it or not?"

"I don't know," said Ron. "I might take it badly, seeing myself and all that ..."

"The answer is no," said Pyret. "Because you were in that room, Ron. You remember that. And you don't remember being told anything, do you? But you travelled to the past, so there was an older version of you somewhere. And that person, that you, _didn't say anything_. Now, that person is your future you. He knows what you know, and he decided not to tell you anything. When you go back, when you _become him_, you'll make the same decision. It is as simple as that. The reasons don't matter. The fact is that you didn't tell yourself anything, and so, when you go there, you'll do the same, because you already did!"

"But that would mean my future is written!" protested Ron.

"No!" Anwar replied. "It means that you made a choice, Ron! And why would you change the choice you took, if you have the same information and are the same person in the same situation? Nobody can go back to the past and change things. Everything that goes back was already there, so travels to the past don't change things, but make things happen the way they did."

Ron thought about it. And maybe Pyret had changed him a bit, because, complicated as it was. It made _sort of_ sense, yes.

"This, and the impossibility to go back to the future, is why I believe this other Master of Essence didn't come from the future. He can't change what happened, and, besides, he would be trapped here."

"Then where the hell did he come from?"

"I can't answer that. I suppose that, no matter how much we learn, there are always mysteries to unveil. And that, I assure you, is one I'd love to discover."

They stayed in silence for a few moments, and then Pyret spoke again.

"My time is over, Ron. I explained to you the fundamental laws, those that even we, which are in the end made of Essence, cannot break. Anwar won't have to explain them to you. Now I must go. You'll fall asleep again, and then I'll tweak your mind once more. When you wake up, my conscience would have gone. You'll keep my knowledge and memories, and will be ready to start your training. The only thing I can say is good luck."

"I don't know what to say," replied Ron.

"Are you still angry at me?"

Ron shrugged. "I suppose not. What would be the purpose of that? You did what you had to, or what you believed you had to. I am an Auror; I'm best friends with Harry Potter. I understand that."

"Ron, I know you feel sad, that you don't want this, but this power is a privilege, and a good thing. You have only seen Sbalkal use it for evil purposes, but there's so much that can be done to help people. We have helped humanity across history, always in the shadows, helping them to progress, inspiring them, and even preventing terrible disasters. And you'll get to see incredible things other people can't even imagine — the vastness of the Universe, and the terrible beauty of quasars ... You'll feel people, and yes, there is so much evil there, so much pain ... but there is also so much love, kindness and happiness. And it is our duty to ensure that those things continue existing, by fighting those who use our powers, our gifts, for a selfish purpose.

"So good luck, Ron. See you on the other side ... hopefully, not before many, many years had passed."

And with that, Pyret's image vanished, and everything around Ron became black once more.

* * *

_Hope your head isn't spinning (too much) due to explanations about time-travel. I loved that the Harry Potter series provided a satisfying way to deal with it. Often I find that stories with time-travelling make no sense. But in Harry Potter, people travel to the past without changing it. Harry and Hermione contribute to things happening the way they happened (if Harry hadn't cast his Patronus, Past Harry and Hermione wouldn't have survived to then go to the past and save themselves)._

_As always, if you have doubts, you can ask me in a review and I'll be delighted to answer you (if I can)._


	25. So Far, So Close

_Let me clarify something, as I've noticed some of you were confused about something. Ron does not know about Hermione giving birth because Hermione hasn't given birth yet. If you remember, in chapter 'Nowhere' Anwar tells Ron he's been unconscious for three weeks. Then two more to finish his preparation with Pyret. So it's still March, and Hermione gave birth on 18__th__ of June. This chapter will cover what Ron did from March to August, when we left Hermione and the others at The Burrow, about to be attacked by Sbalkal._

_This a long chapter, but don't worry, not so much theory here as in the last chapters._

_As always, thanks to __**Kathy**__ for her help._

* * *

**PART II**

**TALES OF OLD SECRETS **

_**Chapter 25**_

**So Far, So Close**

* * *

Ron woke up and blinked a few times, still disoriented, and then remembered everything. He jumped to a sitting position, and looked around. He could hear a buzzing sound, as if a wasp or a bee were inside his ears. He tried to locate the origin of the noise, but it seemed to come from everywhere. And the strangest thing was that, in a way, he was sure that there was no sound at all. Then why was he hearing it?

His train of thought was broken by the door opening, and then Anwar walked into the room and stood by the bed, staring at him.

"Good morning, Ron. How do you feel?"

"A bit funny," he answered, looking back at him. "How long have I've been unconscious, or sleeping?"

"About two days," answered Anwar. "You should eat something and then start training. We haven't got time to waste."

At the mention of food, Ron felt his stomach growl.

He got out of the bed and followed Anwar to the exterior. Nothing seemed to have changed there, except for the table under the trees, where an apparently delicious meal had been laid.

"Sit down, Ron, and help yourself," Anwar indicated him, gesturing towards the table. Ron didn't wait for another invitation, and did just that.

"Where do you get all this?" Ron asked, barely remembering he had to swallow before speaking. Hermione would scold him if he didn't have proper —

_Hermione_.

Just thinking of her filled him with longing. He barely heard Anwar's response.

"Well, as you've seen, I'm not completely powerless, and having a wizard and witch here helps," Anwar said. Ron noticed he wasn't eating, just watching him.

"Don't you eat?" Ron asked him. He felt a bit strange stuffing himself while the other man was just staring.

"Not usually. And when you've been trained, you won't, either. You'll get all the energy for your body from Essence itself."

Ron was lifting his right hand to shove some bacon into his mouth, but he froze, staring at Anwar wide-eyed.

"You're joking."

"I'm not. I liked to eat, too. I barely do now. When you're never hungry, eating loses its appeal. You've got to begin to accept that a lot of things are about to change for you, Ron. Right now you're holding onto the things you loved from your old life, but the sooner you let that go, the better."

"I don't want to let anything — or anyone — go."

"That's not the way of thinking that will help you."

Ron let the fork fall onto the plate. Suddenly, he was much less hungry, but not precisely because he had learned how to draw energy from the Universe.

"How's she?" he asked.

"Like the last time you asked, more or less."

"When I learn how to use my — my powers, will I — will I be able to see her? To check on her? To know if she's all right?"

Anwar stared into his eyes, his face not showing pity or care, but expressionless. "Yes," he answered after a while. "Work hard, and you'll be able to do that, even to feel her. But let me tell you once more, Ron, that your story with her is over. You'll not stop loving her, but you won't be in love with her. You must accept that."

Ron's expression hardened, but he didn't say anything. He just stared at the table, and took a sip from a glass of juice.

"But let's not talk about that," Anwar continued. "Tell me, how was your encounter with Pyret?"

"Odd," said Ron. "He told me a lot of things; I've barely got a chance to understand."

"Like what?"

"Like the four Fundamental Laws of Essence."

"Ah, he told you about them? Good. Something less to worry about. Don't worry if you don't understand them now. When you start understanding Essence, they'll be like second nature to you."

"Doubt that," said Ron, remembering that he had never been good at understanding theory while at Hogwarts. It was Hermione who always made it simpler for him, especially in their last years. But maybe it was just because he loved hearing her and seeing her lips move as she talked and talked ...

Anwar's intense gaze drew him out of his thoughts. For a moment, he was sure he was going to reprimand him again, but he didn't.

"Shall we start with your training?" he said.

"What? Now?"

"Have you got something else to do?"

"No," he said. _Yes_, he thought.

"Good." Anwar turned his head and looked at the empty and apparently endless surface that extended in every direction. "What do you see there?"

Ron looked, confused.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Well, there's the surface, but, apart from that —"

"The surface, yes," nodded Anwar, interrupting him. "And you call that 'nothing?' What about the air that fills the space — do you think it's empty?"

"I know it's not empty," said Ron. "The second Law states that there's no empty space —"

"Yes, but I didn't ask you what _there is_, but what you see."

"I know, and that's why I told you 'nothing.' I don't see the air."

"And why don't you?"

"Because it is invisible?" Ron answered, a bit disdainfully. What kind of question was that?

"No! It is because you're using your eyes, and you can't see it with them. Close them."

Ron gazed at him for a few seconds, startled, but then did as told.

"What do you perceive now?"

Ron waited for a moment. "Well, obviously I don't see anything. But there's this buzzing noise ..."

"A buzzing noise. And where does that come from?"

"I don't know. Apparently, from everywhere. But I'm not sure it's my ears that are hearing it ..."

"Because they aren't. That noise, as you call it, is the way you perceive the matter and energy that surrounds you. It is the sound of the vibrating atoms and molecules, of the vibrating electromagnetic field, and, ultimately, of the vibration of Essence itself. And when you understand that sound, you'll be able to tell me, for instance, how many molecules compound the chair you're sitting on."

Ron opened his eyes and stared at him disbelievingly. "From _that_ sound?" he asked. "Well, that seems a bit unlikely. It sounds like a hundred wirelesses badly tuned."

"Forget what you know!" Anwar almost shouted. "Pyret prepared you. I spent months and months in training before being capable or hearing that buzzing noise. Try again. Try to see, Ron. Use the knowledge you've already got."

Ron tried again, but, after a few more attempts in which he didn't achieve anything else but hearing the noise (which was beginning to cause him a headache) he grew frustrated.

"I can't do that. I don't know why I have this supposed potential; I'm not good at this. Hermione is the smart one," he added longingly.

"Well, _you've _got it," Anwar replied. "You've barely started. And, in any case, you'd be better if you stopped thinking about her all the time. Forget her."

Ron scowled at him. "Forget her!? She's my wife!"

"Not anymore," Anwar said.

"What? What do you mean?"

"I've already told you," Anwar said patiently. "All that is over, Ron. Thinking about her or the rest of your family as specific people, instead of human beings and people that must be protected, is not going to help you! Why do you think Sbalkal killed that girl, Julie, and threatened Hermione? Because he knew that the rage and the worry wouldn't let you think clearly! You must clear your mind and assume your new abilities and status!"

Ron turned round, not wanting Anwar to see his face. It crossed his mind that, since Anwar was a Master of Essence, it was almost impossible for him to hide anything, but he dismissed the thought as a surge of guilt flooded him. Sbalkal hadn't lied, then; he had killed Julie just because she was important to him. If Anwar was trying to be encouraging saying things like that, he was doing a rather poor job.

"What's your _exact_ weight, in kilos?" came the unexpected and odd question.

"What?" Ron asked, turning round. "I don't —"

"How long, in metres, is the circumference of this place?"

"I don't unders—?"

"Just answer the question!" demanded Anwar. "What's the _exact _temperature of the surrounding air, in Celsius grades?"

"How can I know —?"

"What's the exact number or hairs on your head?"

"I —"

"Don't think, just answer! How many hairs are there on my head?"

Ron was getting angry at the endless train of questions, which he didn't have the slightest idea of how to answer. "I don't know!" he shouted.

"Where's Antoine?"

"In the fucking kitchen!" Ron yelled, now completely furious. "What the hell are you doing?"

"How do you know?"

"What?"

"He's there, in the kitchen. But how do you know?"

Ron was now speechless, his fury dissolved and forgotten. "I — I don't know. I just — the answer just bubbled up."

"Exactly!" Anwar said, excited. "Exactly! Seek inside yourself, Ron, and you'll find the answers! You've got everything in you. Just use it! You could answer this question because a person is a concept familiar to you. It should be as easy to tell me how many molecules of oxygen there are here, but you're not familiar with the concept of a molecule. That's why I told you you must forget what you know, and embrace a world of new concepts. Open your mind, Ron, and let your soul tell you all it knows about the Universe. Ask yourself questions, seek knowledge, and be curious. That's the way to control your powers. You must understand the Universe before you can control it."

Not knowing what to say, Ron stayed silent. After that, Anwar stopped asking questions, and, instead, began to talk about Essence, about its ten-dimensional vibration that was matter and energy in the three-dimensional world. He spoke about particles and energy and magic, and Ron couldn't help but listen, enthralled by the explanation as he had never been before. And everything Anwar said rang a bell inside his head, making him realise that, in a way, he already knew it all, he just had to accept he did and use it.

In a place where nothing ever changed, and where there wasn't a sun or even clocks, Ron was unable to keep track of time, as Anwar kept talking about the Essence field, about instantaneous actions at a distance, about the nature of Magic and about how it could only affect things in the six-dimensional continuum, and so, it was impossible for any wizard or witch to Apparate into this place from the 'normal' world. Antoine and the other witch, whose name was Rhoda, could only come and go with Anwar's help.

At some point, Anwar stopped talking, and Antoine and Rhoda appeared with more food, saying it was time for dinner.

"It never goes dark here?" Ron asked.

"Never," answered Anwar. "But you can close the shutters in your room so you can sleep as though it was night. While you still sleep, of course."

After the dinner, which was delicious, Anwar ordered Ron to bed.

"You need to rest, and let your mind process all you've heard. We shall continue tomorrow, all right?"

Ron just nodded, and went to bed, his mind filled with data and stuff. But in the midst of all that, Hermione's face bubbled up, and he found himself sighing, wishing he was with her in bed and wishing that they could make love and, afterwards, hold her naked, warm body and feel it next to his. After a while, other faces began to appear, as well: Harry's, Ginny's, his parents', Bill's, Fleur's, Charlie's, George's, and the kids' ... all of them so far from him now. He wondered if they were all right, and tried to focus on them, trying to see them to know how they were, in the same way he had known where Antoine had been, but he didn't achieve it.

His slumber was plagued with strange dreams, which no doubt came from Pyret's memories. They included talks of strange things, distant places, familiar but unknown faces and people ... and Sbalkal. Sbalkal, listening to him; Sbalkal, making a flame appear on his open palm; Sbalkal, outstretching his right arm towards a dark sky and then being struck by a sudden lightning bolt ...

Ron woke up with a start, his heart beating pretty fast but otherwise well rested. He took a moment to take in his surroundings, and then got out of the bed and opened the window, only to be greeted by the same exact image of previous days. How could Anwar and the others not go insane seeing this day after day after day?

He closed his eyes for a moment and relaxed his mind. The buzzing sound was there, but it had become a bit clearer, as if it wasn't just one sound, but hundreds, or thousands of sounds together, and he was starting to learn how to tell them apart.

Following an odd impulse, Ron turned round just a moment before the door opened, revealing Antoine.

"Good morning, Mr Weasley. Maesse is already waiting for you at the table."

"Good morning. And thank you," replied Ron.

Ron stood there for a minute or so, then exited the room and headed outside. Anwar was sitting in the very same place as the day before. One could think time had not passed at all.

"Good morning, Ron. An interesting night?" he asked.

"You could say that," Ron answered as he sat down.

"Your mind will get accustomed to those dreams, and they'll help you to develop your abilities."

Ron just nodded, and began to eat under the scrutinising gaze of Anwar. He could know what he was thinking and what he was feeling, and it was a sensation he didn't like in the slightest.

"Yesterday I talked to you about Physics, Magic and the eleven-dimensional universe," the old master began to say. "Today, Ron, I want you to walk away from the house and to meditate about this. I want you to understand the Fundamental Laws; I want you to comprehend that you've always knew them. Seek inside yourself, Ron, and ask Essence when you don't know something. You've got the power to get the answers, so get them."

"So that's it? Meditation?"

"Yes. Until you can understand it, Ron, you can't manipulate the world around you. And remember that time is against us, so I advise you to concentrate and do your best."

Without another word, Anwar turned towards the house and went in, leaving Ron alone. Sighing, he got up and, after looking at the horizon, he took off.

He walked for about forty minutes, slowly, until a point where he could see the house behind and in front of him, and then sat down on the ground. He puffed, closed his eyes, and began to think about everything he had heard.

That routine continued for the next week. Every night, he would dream about strange things, things that had belonged to Pyret's memory. He knew that should help him to understand, but more often than not, he wasn't able to comprehend their meaning and it left him disturbed and uneasy. And during the day, Anwar ordered him to walk away and meditate.

He didn't notice any progress, and was getting more and more frustrated. This meditation was not his thing; that was for sure. He was a man of action, not one to sit down and think about things. That was Hermione.

Hermione.

He knew he shouldn't think about her and that he had to concentrate on his training, but he wasn't able to kept her out of his mind. He wasn't making any advances, and that caused him to be scared for her, and being scared for her didn't allow him to concentrate, so he didn't make any advances ... He was trapped in a vicious circle and didn't know how to get out.

"You aren't making any progress, Ron," Anwar told him one day, while Ron was having breakfast.

"I know."

"You've got it all inside you!" Anwar said hotly. "You have used your abilities before, Ron!"

"I KNOW!" Ron snapped. "I know, okay? I know I'm rubbish at this. I told you I wasn't the right person!"

"Stop belittling yourself, will you?" Anwar yelled at him. "Stop whining about how unfair this is. Life's unfair! Accept it! You can do this, just like you've done other things in the past. You opened the Chamber of Secrets; you destroyed a Horcrux; you trained Julie Simmells —"

"And she DIED!" Ron yelled. "She died!"

"And that wasn't your fault!" Anwar replied. "You couldn't have saved her! It wasn't that she wasn't trained enough! He wanted to kill her because of what she meant to you, and because of how important her training had been to you! There's nothing you could have done to prevent her death, so stop blaming yourself or thinking that you weren't a good trainer for her, and focus! You know what's at stake!"

"I know, of course I know!" Ron shouted. "It's the only thing I can think about! That I won't be able to protect Hermione, my daughter, or the rest of my family!"

Anwar observed him for a while, not saying anything, and Ron lowered his gaze, not wanting to look into his mentor's eyes.

"You're focusing on the consequences of your failure, instead of on the benefits of your success," Anwar said suddenly.

"Well, it's hard not to, isn't it?" Ron replied. "And besides, I don't think that being a Master of Essence is such a great thing ... To keep living while everyone you love dies ... If I learned something during the last year of the war, was that people are not meant to live forever. We are meant to die, and must accept that. That's the way the universe is, and the way souls work!"

"Yes, you're right," Anwar agreed. He sighed. "You're right, Ron. We're meant to die, and that's why we end up dying. You're also right in that your mind is not the best for this training. It isn't a good or a bad thing, just the way you are. But you must stop thinking about that. _You _have got the power. And you have to stop dreading what you're about to become. You must desire it, Ron. Otherwise, your mind and your soul won't collaborate. You must desire to become a Master of Essence, really desire it, and believe that you can."

"I cannot make myself want something I don't!" said Ron. "I can't control what I want, can I? Nobody can!"

"Then think about what you want, Ron. What is the thing you desire the most right now?"

"To see Hermione; to hug her; to be with her; and to know if — if she's all right."

"Use your power, then. Use your power and you'll be able to feel her, to see her, and to know how she is. Make an effort and try hard, because it is the only way you'll see her again."

"You told me to forget her."

"Well, that approach didn't work, did it?" Anwar replied. "You know what you've got to do."

Ron began to walk, moving away from the house, all the time thinking about what Anwar had told him. Yes, he had been right. He dreaded becoming a Master of Essence. He had accepted it, but didn't want it. Even if the promise of power was somewhat tantalising, the consequences of getting it were terrible.

But it was true that, if he wanted to see Hermione and to feel her again, he had to become one. He had to complete his training. He had to save her, because, even though he _might_ not be able to save her, he knew he didn't want to live in a world where Hermione didn't exist.

He wasn't being a romantic fool. He knew that a lot of people lost their loved ones and were able to go on. But Hermione and he were _different_. They had gone through so much together, and had developed a bond that went beyond normal friendship or love. What he shared with her, he could not share with anyone else.

He could live, yes ... but always be incomplete.

He stopped suddenly, and looked around. This was his spot, the place where he had meditated for the last two weeks.

But how did he know? How could he know _this _was the exact point, in a place where everywhere looked the same?

He sat down with his legs crossed, put his elbows on his knees and rested his chin on his entwined hands. He looked at the distant house, immersed in his thoughts.

_Not every point is identical,_ he thought. _Their relative position to the house is different. And, somehow, I've perceived that, and that was how I always find the same spot. I can't tell it apart with my eyes ... but I can do it with my mind._

Without having noticed it, he had connected with the surrounding world, with the Universe ... with Essence. He had done it the same way he had known that Antoine was in the kitchen when Anwar had asked: without realising it.

Feeling a bit more hopeful, he looked all around him, at this little six-dimensional bubble in the Universe - this space that was like the surface of a sphere. He turned his head and looked into the distance, and there, following the straight line of vision that was actually a curve, was the house. He looked up, and knew that, if he went up, he would find earth, and if he started to dig a tunnel, he would come out where he was. The geometry of this haven was now perfectly clear in his mind. Maybe it had been for days, but he had been too blind to realise it. But now he had _really_ assimilated the consequences of failing, so now his soul and mind were on the same page.

He closed his eyes, and listened to that buzzing sound he was now so accustomed to hearing that he could ignore it most of the time. It was now clearer than before, but he still was unable to understand it.

But he _could_. He had the ability. He _had_ to be able to.

_Hermione_, he thought, pushing his mind towards her, seeking her. _I want to know how she is_, he told Essence. _Tell me. Tell me._

The buzzing noise didn't change.

_Okay. Easiest things first. Let's relax and see what it tells me about my surroundings._

He breathed slowly, relaxed his mind and soul and then just listened. The noise was annoying, but it was definitely clearer. He could distinguish many different sounds in it. And, wasn't it more intense in one direction? Yeah, it was. It was more intense in the direction the house was.

Only it was not just in that direction. It was more intense _where_ the house was. It was as if he could visualise a three-dimensional map in his mind, and see where the noise was more intense. There was Magic there, and Anwar. And the noise was telling him they were there. He could not distinguish everything, yet ... but at least he was on the right path now.

— — o — —

"You've progressed a lot, but you should stop doing that."

Ron opened his eyes and looked at Anwar, who was towering above him.

"I can't."

Almost three weeks had passed, and he had got a lot better. Every day, he could see, hear, and _feel_ better. It was as if he had been blind and deaf before. Now the earth he walked on, the air that surrounded him, and the light that illuminated the place had no secrets for him. He had overcome the wall blocking his power, and it was unleashing. But still, he had been unable to really perceive Hermione, and that was the thing he desired the most.

"The geometry of this space is designed so it is not easy to look into it. That also makes it difficult to look out of it, and thanks to that Sbalkal has not found us yet. Besides, Earth is very far from here. Even if you could Apparate out of here, you'd never reach Earth. You have the power, Ron, but are not ready to do something like that yet. Focus on here, on the present, and keep working."

"I need to know she's okay."

"She's all right. At least, as all right as she can be in her situation."

"Is — is she still looking for me?"

"All of them are."

"Thinking about how she must feel breaks my heart. I'm causing her — all of them — so much pain."

"Discipline, Ron," Anwar said, in a slightly scolding tone. "Control you mind. Don't let your emotions overwhelm you. Don't focus on how they are, but on what will happen if Sbalkal decides to act while you're not ready."

"I know," said Ron, grimacing. "It is not easy, okay? This is happening too fast. You had years to get accustomed to it. I've had five weeks to get used to the idea I'm becoming an immortal being able to manipulate the Universe in ways I didn't believe were possible."

"I know it's not easy. Important things usually aren't. Come on, lunch is ready."

As they walked towards the table, Ron asked. "When will I have power enough to beat him?"

"You've already got power enough to beat him."

"WHAT!?" Ron shouted, shocked, and stopped dead. "Then what the hell am I doing here?"

Anwar stopped, too, and looked at him. "Sbalkal lost a lot of power when his soul broke. Healing his soul now that it's complete has cost him a lot. Despite you being less powerful than any normal Master of Essence even despite how your power grows naturally and having Pyret's help, right now you're more powerful than Sbalkal. It's not due to lack of power that you aren't ready, Ron. It's your mind that isn't ready. It doesn't matter how much power you've got if you can't use it. But, as you know, his power grows. And faster than yours. You must be ready, mentally, before his power surpasses yours, or we'll be doomed. That's why you must work as hard as you can."

Antoine was putting a steaming pot of stew on the table when they got there. Almost without thinking about it, Ron raised a hand and a slice of bread flew from the table. He caught it and gave it a bite.

He had started to do things like that four days ago. At first, things just moved, but soon he was able to control the amount of energy he imbued in objects and the direction of the movement. He had been able to appreciate how different it was from doing it with magic. Manipulating Essence was an entirely different thing.

Ron put some stew on his plate and Antoine, Rhoda — the witch — and he began to eat.

"It won't be long until you stop eating," Anwar said suddenly.

"What?" Ron asked.

"You'll have to stop eating soon. You have to start to give energy to your body without ingesting food. Then you'll be a step closer to becoming a true Master of Essence."

"And what's the last step?" Ron asked, but realised he already knew the answer.

"To be able to avoid death, restoring the life to your body."

"And how will I know I'm capable of that?"

"We'll have to test you the way all of us were tested, Ron. I'll kill your body, and you'll have to heal it and come back to life."

Ron stared at him open-mouthed. "Are you kidding?"

"Of course not," said Anwar, completely serious.

"Well, I see lots of flaws in that plan!"

"It's got to be done, Ron; there's no other way," Anwar stated. He nodded towards Ron's plate. "Finish your meal, and let's go back to the training."

Anwar had Ron make alterations to his surroundings all afternoon. At first, it was simple things, but, as time went by, he began to ask him to manipulate greater and greater amounts of Essence, like making them float in the air by annulling gravity, or to do very delicate changes, like disintegrating objects by breaking the electromagnetic bond between the nucleus and the electrons of atoms. This last exercise had been the most difficult so far to him, and left him very tired, though not in a physical way.

"Your power can't feed itself yet," Anwar told him. "This sort of thing — manipulating the inner structure of matter — is very difficult. It requires power, but, above all, knowledge, precision and control. Your soul and mind are tired, Ron. We'll continue tomorrow." He smiled at him. "You've done a good job. It took me three and a half years until I was able to do that."

"Well, I've got Pyret's memories, haven't I?"

"True. But your mind is still yours, Ron."

That night, Ron fell asleep very quickly. Lately, he slept in a strange state of awareness, as if, even though his eyes were closed, his mind was still able to see, as if part of it were conscious while the rest dreamt. But, mentally tired as he was, he expected to sleep like before.

It didn't happen.

He dreamt of Hermione, and saw her, lying on a bed that was not their own. Ron had dreamt about her lots of times, whenever Pyret's memories didn't take over his mind, but never like this. There was something strange in the dream. For starters, it didn't feel as if he was seeing because he didn't seem to be there. It felt more like perceiving. Hermione's brown, wild hair was spread over the pillow, and, under the blankets, the roundness of her belly was clearly appreciable. Ron could see all this, and yet he knew it was completely dark in the room. He realised that was odd, but Ron didn't dwell on that, as he was mesmerised by her. He contemplated her, and realised it was mid-April; she was now seven months pregnant. In a way, he approached her. She seemed so real, sleeping, though not peacefully. She had bags under her eyes, and, despite the pregnancy, her face looked thinner. Ron noticed things he had never noticed before, like the exact thickness of her hairs, the little imperfections of her skin, the blood running through her veins, the air entering and exiting her lungs, the exact temperature of her dry lips, and the beating of the two hearts inside her —

Two hearts.

And then he realised that he was not dreaming. He had, for the first time, contacted her. Maybe his mind was too tired and his soul too drained to manipulate things, but his ability to perceive things had grown. He was seeing Hermione like she was, dreaming in a spare room in New Home, and his heart was filled with longing for her, because he was seeing her in a way he had never seen her before. And all the imperfections he was able to notice just made her more human, and more desirable, especially when he could see, also, the shining of her caring, loving and kind soul ...

_Hermione ..._

She rolled over on the bed, but did not wake up.

_Hermione, love ... I'm here. I'm fine, Hermione. You don't have to worry about me. You've got to take care of yourself. You've got to —_

Something changed.

The warm feeling he was experiencing at seeing — _sensing _— Hermione turned suddenly cold. It was as if a shadow had fallen upon him, and he felt, for sure, that he was in terrible danger —

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" someone yelled. "STOP RIGHT NOW! WAKE UP!"

Ron jumped to a sitting position, completely awake. Anwar's face was right over his, and his look was murderous.

"What —?"

"Are you insane!?" Anwar asked him. "You almost doomed us all!"

"But —" Ron stammered, a bit confused. "I was — I just — I just dreamt about Hermione, saw her ..."

"Saw her?" Anwar repeated, almost beside himself. Ron had never seen him like this.

"Yes, I think I reached her with my mind. What's the problem?" he added defensively. "I didn't do anything wrong!"

"Oh, didn't you?" Anwar asked. "You were just watching, were you? You tried to speak to her and to influence her!"

"Well, maybe, I —"

"Sbalkal almost perceived you! He could have traced us! And then what, Ron? Maybe you're ready to fight him and I didn't realise?"

"I'm sorry, okay?" Ron fought back. "I just — I miss her, and when I saw her ... and felt my daughter's heart beat ..."

"I told you to stop trying to reach her! You're not ready! The temptation to tell her you're all right is too strong, Ron! We cannot make one single mistake, or everything will be lost!"

"I'm sorry," Ron repeated.

"Discipline, Ron," Anwar said, a bit calmer. "You must control your emotions. There's too much at stake."

"I know."

"Sbalkal knows what she means to you. He will be watching her, and at the first sign of you he could attack us."

Ron looked down, not saying anything.

Anwar stared at him for a few seconds, and then, sighing, he left the room. Ron dropped onto the bed and closed his eyes. He remembered the cold feeling, and felt a shiver run down his spine. It had been close. _Very_ close.

Not wanting to think about Sbalkal or what could have happened, he concentrated on the image of Hermione and on every detail he had perceived in her. He hadn't noticed it straight away, but she radiated sadness, even while sleeping. She missed him, and he couldn't do anything to alleviate that feeling. He gritted his teeth, feeling an awful sensation of impotency. He was tempted to try and see her again, but was too scared and didn't dare to. It was too risky.

"I love you, Hermione," he said to the empty room. "I'm being trained. I've discovered incredible stuff and done amazing things, but I still love you. I love you as much as always. As always, Hermione."

He rolled onto his left side, and fell asleep after a while, feeling alone and miserable, and with a lonely tear running down his cheek.

— — o — —

"_Stupefy!_" Rhoda shouted.

Ron, whose eyes were covered by a blindfold, felt the magic surging from her body, channelling through her wand and flying towards him, but, with a simple swish it vanished. A moment later, he felt three stones flying towards him from different directions, but, with swiftly and precise movements, he dodged them all. Then a new spell from Rhoda, which he dodged as well, and, after that, a new stone. This time he focused on it, he drained the kinetic energy from it, and it fell to the ground.

"All right," Anwar said. "Antoine, Rhoda, you can go and have dinner. Thank you for your help." They both nodded, and headed for the house. Anwar focused his eyes on Ron. "You've done well, Ron. Your power is growing."

Ron nodded. He could feel Antoine and Rhoda working in the kitchen, preparing their dinner, and he felt the desire to join them. He hadn't eaten, or drunk, in the last four weeks. At first, it had been very hard. Despite that he was able to keep his body functioning, the sensation of hunger had been almost unbearable. It had got better after the second week, but, to tell the truth, he hadn't got completely over the need of food.

He sighed, looking into the distance. He was suffering so many changes in such a short time. It still marvelled him the way he could see now, not really with his eyes, but with his very soul. How could the world be so different? And then was the other great temptation he had to resist, the hardest of them all: his need to see Hermione.

After that first mistake, he had waited two entire weeks before trying to see her again. That time he had been able to control himself by avoiding trying to make any change or contact her. Emboldened by his success, he had started to check on her — and on the rest of his family — every day; sometimes, even twice or thrice a day. After a few days, though, he had tried to stop this and do it just once a week or so. None of these approaches worked for him. If he didn't see her, knowing that he could, he felt empty and lonely, and consumed by guilt for not checking on her. But if he did, he felt that every time he had to stop was harder; he was consumed with guilt after feeling how much she still missed him, and felt awfully miserable after sensing how one part of her even _hated_ him for leaving her without an explanation.

"Let's go back to the house, Ron," Anwar told him. "You deserve some rest."

As they walked, Ron thought about his master, and all the other Masters of Essence. All of them, powerful beyond anyone's wildest fantasies, with so much knowledge and lives so long it was hard to imagine. And yet, all of them were alone. Oh, yes, they loved life and every living creature. The idea of killing was terrible to them. He himself had experienced it, when feeling the horrible sensation of perceiving another being die in a non-natural way. But despite that love for life, he could not imagine how it would be to live forever, or at least for so long, without anyone. Could the feeling, that connection to every living person, be enough to go on without real love or friendship? He didn't believe so, and yet all of them had done it. Well, the others had had someone, other Masters of Essence, but Anwar had been living alone for so many years without another immortal being. He, Ron, had changed, but it seemed impossible to him that he could change so much he wouldn't need Hermione and Harry. Was that really inevitable? Anwar had told him it would happen ...

But he couldn't believe it. No, he _refused_ to believe it.

And these thoughts brought to his mind the fact that it had been a week since the last time he had checked on her. Her stomach was now so big, she was almost nine months pregnant, and he wasn't beside her.

Nine months pregnant ...

He stopped suddenly. Anwar, sensing something was happening, wheeled around to face him.

"Ron ..."

"She's about to have the baby."

"Ronald ..."

"She's about to give birth to _my _daughter!"

"I know."

"I need to go. I need to be beside her!"

"You can't, Ron."

"Don't you understand? SHE'S ABOUT TO HAVE MY BABY, OUR FIRST CHILD!" he shouted, beside himself. "You cannot ask me not to be there!"

"And would you like Sbalkal popping up there while she gives birth, Ron?" Anwar replied. "Do you think he'll be considerate enough not to attack while you live such a wonderful moment?"

"And why doesn't he attack, then?" Ron asked, furious. "He must know I'd go to protect her!"

"I don't know," Anwar said. "Maybe he's not sure about his victory. His power is still growing. You're a unique case. He doesn't know how you're being trained. Maybe he fears he's not strong enough right now."

Ron clenched his fists, his whole body shaking. Having heard the shouts, Antoine and Rhoda had come out. Ron was not looking at them, but could feel the pity they felt for him.

"I need to be with her."

"Then be," Anwar told him. "Be, but she can't know. Sbalkal will be watching, Ron. He'll expect you to appear. You're so close to completing your training. Don't let everything go to waste."

Ron nodded. He wanted to be alone so he simply disappeared and appeared again in the farthest point from the house. He sat down on the ground and closed his eyes.

Hermione was being put on a bed. She was in pain. Her face and hair were drenched in sweat. The healers had got her into a gown, and were waiting for her contractions to be close enough. Harry had taken her to the hospital while Ginny informed the rest of the family, and was there with her, clutching her hand. He felt a sudden need to cry, so thankful that his friend would be there for Hermione when he couldn't be, even if he was cursing him right now for not being there.

Ron focused on Hermione, wishing he could stop her pain, and knowing that he couldn't. She, rational Hermione, was going along with the belief that magic shouldn't be used while giving birth. Six months ago, he would have been glad of it, even if her pain killed him, because he had believed in that as well. He had been taught that since he was a child. But now he knew that it was really a stupid superstition. Magic wouldn't do any harm, because the creating of life was beyond Magic itself.

"There we go, Ms Granger," one of the healers said. "Push hard!"

Ron felt Hermione do as told. She clutched Harry's hand tightly and let out a scream of pain that pierced Ron's soul.

_I'm with you, Hermione. I'm here. You can do it, love._

"Push hard, Hermione!" the healer said.

Ron tried to ignore Harry's thoughts, the way he felt this wasn't right, and that he shouldn't be the one there, and instead he focused on his child, his daughter, that was slowly coming out to the world.

"Just a bit more, Hermione!"

"Oh, God! Harrrryyyy!" Hermione yelled, pushing harder.

"I'm here, Hermione," Harry said, squeezing her hand. "You're doing it wonderfully. Just a bit more, okay?"

"I need Ron h-here," she said, and panted. "Why isn't he with me, Harry?" Pant. "Why isn't he here? I — I need him and he left me ... he l-left me ..."

The _Cruciatus _curse surely couldn't hurt more. Hearing her, feeling what she was feeling, and sensing her despair and her sadness was too much for him.

_Oh, Hermione, Hermione ... I'm so, so sorry ... But I'm here, with you. So close, and yet, so far ..._

Ron focused on Harry, his first and best friend, the person who was there for Hermione when he couldn't. He was angry at him, and Ron was glad for that, because he was angry on Hermione's behalf. Harry would always take care of her, and for that he couldn't be more thankful. He was thinking about Ginny, and about the son growing inside her. Ron could feel him, too, in the hallway outside the room. Harry was thinking that nothing in the world would keep him apart from Ginny when his second son was born.

_Sometimes you've got to do something you hate, something you detest, to protect what you love, Harry. And you know it better than anyone else. You're right. I should be in your place, clutching her hand. But it's not possible. And I'll owe you forever for being there when I can't._

"Just a last push, Hermione! Come on!"

Hermione made a last effort, and then just lay limply, too exhausted to move, and panting heavily. Ron focused on his daughter, now being cleaned with a spell, and felt his heart melt.

His daughter. He had waited for this moment since the moment Hermione had told him, eight months ago. It seemed to have occurred a lifetime ago.

"You've got such a beautiful daughter," the healer told Hermione.

"Can — can I ... hold ... her?" she asked.

"Of course," the healer said, and put her on her arms. Hermione embraced her lovingly and carefully, and Ron could see the bond forming, and the way Hermione, body and soul and mind, seemed to glow with sudden happiness and adoration. And the sight left Ron breathless, his heart full of such longing he thought it would break. This was the loveliest image he had ever seen. None of the wonders he had witnessed since he had started to develop his abilities compared to this.

_Rose, _Ron thought, knowing what Hermione was going to say. _Rose _...

"Rose," she said. "Rose. Do you like it, Harry?"

Harry had already fallen in love with the child, too. Ron could feel it.

"It's perfect, Hermione, just like her."

Ron watched the scene, burning it in his mind, and then cut the connection. He focused his blurry gaze on the sky. His face was completely tear-strained.

"Oh, Merlin ... This is unfair, so unfair ..." he moaned, and then gave free reign to his emotions and cried like a child.

— — o — —

It was hours later when he went into the house. He didn't appear this time, but walked. Antoine and Rhoda were still up, but neither said anything to him. It wasn't necessary, though, because Ron could feel their pity, despite his attempts to block everything.

"It'll pass," Anwar told him. "This pain won't last forever."

"And what do you know?" Ron snapped at him. "What do you know about love? About what being a father means? Have you ever watched your child, and felt her little heart beat, but were unable to hold her? Unable to tell her you love her even though you've just met her?"

"No," Anwar answered.

"Then don't talk about what you don't know!"

"You think that I don't know?" Anwar asked, a hard look on his face. "Do you think that just because I've never been in love I don't know what that means? I had parents, Ron, and people whom I loved. I know what it is to lose them. I've lived for centuries. I've felt love, and pain, in millions of people all around the world. I know perfectly well what love is. I love humankind, every person in the world. The love you feel for Hermione, for your family, and for your friends is a limited love. You have experienced what it is to feel people. You'll love everyone, Ron, every living creature. And you'll learn to deal with loss. You'll learn to live without your family."

"No!" Ron shouted. "No! I've seen Rose in the arms of Hermione. There's no way I can ignore what I feel for them. They're part of me. They're my world."

"I know that's what you feel now. But that'll change. _The_ world will become _your_ world."

"It won't," Ron replied heatedly.

"Look into the world, Ron. Watch people. Feel them. You'll get to know them, their dreams, their hopes, and their fears. And you'll love them, with their virtues and flaws. And then you won't be able to make choices without thinking about what is the best for most people, even if it's bad for some."

Ron just stared at him, not knowing what to say. It was true that he had felt other people, and had gotten to know them, and he did care for them.

"It's useless to continue arguing about this, Ron. As time passes, you'll understand. Now I suggest you focus on something else. We have to intensify your training."

"Why?" he asked.

"Don't you feel it? Stop focusing on your pain, and let Essence tell you what's about to happen."

"What are you talking ab—?" It struck him like a blow, and he opened his eyes wide. "Sbalkal! He — he's going to free the prisoners of Azkaban! He's going to build an army!"

"Yes," Anwar said, nodding. "He's recovered enough power to do that, it seems. And now he's ready."

"We can't let him do that!"

"We cannot stop him," Anwar replied. He sighed. "Watch, Ron, and I think you'll understand what we were talking about. I'll give you a few hours. And then, we'll resume training. It is the only thing we can do to prevent more deaths."

Ron spent the next hours watching, horrified, as Sbalkal freed a bunch of murderers and killed a lot of people. He had known the guards, but now ... now they felt like family; they were good blokes. Arnold Greenwood was married. His wife wasn't very pretty, but was kind, and sweet, and loved him. Every day, when he arrived home, she received him with a smile and a cup of hot tea to make him forget about the tough days at the prison. And they had a son, a sweet, funny child named David, that would go to Hogwarts next year. Mother and son were currently at home, waiting for him to come to them ... something that would never happen, because Sbalkal had killed him without hesitation. Ron felt horrified. Sbalkal _knew_, too. How could he do that? How could he kill him, when it wasn't needed, knowing that he had destroyed a family, and had deprived a boy of the possibility of saying goodbye to his father on Platform Nine and Three Quarters? Was the belief in his superiority, and in the fact that as human beings were going to die it wasn't really bad to kill them so strong to block the despair they felt at someone's death?

Ron felt almost sick. He hadn't done anything to prevent that. He had let Sbalkal turn that child into an orphan and that woman into a widow.

But the worst thing was that he knew that he wouldn't have been able to prevent this. If he had gone there and been killed, other children might become orphans in the future. His own daughter, for starters. He was doing the right thing, waiting for the right moment to stop Sbalkal forever. But then, why did he feel so bad?

He realised he was crying, crying for the dead and for their families. He brushed his face. Not wanting to think about death anymore, he focused on Hermione and Rose. Hermione was still out cold, and they were protected. Harry had made sure they were never alone or unwatched. He would take care of them, the same way he would have taken care of Ginny and James if Harry had disappeared. Of course, he knew perfectly well that, if Sbalkal went after them, they were doomed. But Sbalkal wasn't going to do so.

He still felt horrible for not being with them. However, Hermione still had a chance of seeing him. Rose could still be embraced by her father; that was something little David wouldn't enjoy ever again.

He felt Anwar calling him, and stopped thinking about them. Time was running out. He had to work harder than ever before if he wanted to have a chance of defeating Sbalkal and saving his family, his friends and everyone else out there.

And for the next weeks, Anwar made him work almost night and day. Exercises went from manipulating enormous amounts of matter and energy, to doing little things that required subatomic precision. He could feel his power growing inside him. He had the knowledge, which Pyret had given him, and now he was developing more power to put the full extent of his knowledge to use.

"Make it bigger, Ronald," ordered Anwar from behind him.

Ron used his will to make the immense ball of fire, floating a few dozens yards above them, grow even more. It was now five hundred yards in diameter, and the heat it was emitting was terrible. He was fine, however, because he had perfect control of his body temperature. It was a bit more difficult to do the same for Antoine and Rhoda, so they wouldn't be burnt alive.

"You two, attack him."

Rhoda and Antoine began to throw spells at him. Ron, in complete control of the ball of fire, focused on stopping their attacks. He didn't bother to dodge them, but made the first of them vanish, and then blocked their ability to perform magic at all. He smiled, satisfied, and felt it an instant before it happened.

He felt a terrible and piercing pain in his back. Anwar had stabbed him with a long knife. He didn't need to look down to see the blade protruding from his chest.

"FUCK! Why the hell did you do that?" he asked. Above him, the ball of fire began to fade.

"Control the ball, Ron!"

"You've fucking stabbed me!"

"Your body is part of you, Ron; its Essence is part of your entity! Heal yourself!"

Ron tried to forget the pain, and made the knife vanish. Then, ordered his blood and flesh to invert their movement, as if they were going backwards in time, and a few seconds later he was completely healed. He dropped to his knees, panting.

"That hurt!" he protested.

"You weren't ready," Anwar said sternly. "You could have sensed and stopped me. And what are you doing now?"

"What do you mean?"

Anwar threw a pointed look at him, and Ron understood. He was panting.

"You stabbed me in the chest!"

"And you're breathing oxygen to transform the food you're not eating into energy?"

Ron looked at him, shocked, and then stopped panting. In fact, he stopped breathing altogether.

"You don't get energy from food or water. Your strength and your speed have nothing to do with your muscles. That must be second nature to you."

"It's a habit, okay? I haven't had years to get accustomed to it."

"And you must not feel pain," Anwar continued. "A Master of Essence doesn't feel physical pain. Control it."

"I'll try."

"Don't try. _Do it_."

Ron looked up, at the still burning ball of fire. "Do I vanish it?"

"No, keep it burning until tomorrow."

"It's consuming a great amount of oxygen, and they _do_ need to breathe," Ron replied, cocking his head towards Antoine and Rhoda.

"You can reverse the chemical reaction later, can't you?" Anwar replied, and then began to walk towards the house.

— — o — —

"Make me a sword," Anwar asked.

"A sword?" Ron repeated. "What do you want it for?"

"To attack you with it, of course."

"Do you want it as if it were goblin-made?" Ron asked sarcastically.

"Whatever you want will be fine," Anwar answered.

Ron stared at him for a few seconds, and then complied with his request by making a sword for him. Anwar took it and began to move and slash it.

"Not bad," he said. "Now, let's see how you defend yourself."

He attacked Ron, moving it at astounding speed. But Ron just lifted his right arm and stopped the blade with his forearm. If the only thing maintaining the molecules of his skin, flesh and bones together were electromagnetic forces, he would have lost the arm. But it wasn't.

"Good," Anwar said. "But we're not practising defence. I know you can stop me. Let me harm you."

Ron shrugged. "Okay."

He had just said it when Anwar had run him through with the sword, just in his heart. Ron grunted.

"Control the pain, Ron."

"You've just killed me; you could be a bit more considerate!"

Anwar extracted the sword, and Ron's wound healed instantly. However, a moment later he had driven it into his stomach. He pulled it and then cut off Ron's right arm. Ron's body healed once more.

"That's not precisely pleasant," Ron commented.

"Well, what I'm going to do is even less pleasant, so sorry in advance," Anwar stated. He raised the sword, and Ron knew what was going to happen, but before he reacted, Anwar beheaded him with a swift movement of the sword.

Sudden darkness filled everything. He should be dead, and yet he knew he was alive. He was completely detached from his body, and yet could feel it. However, all his power and all his abilities seemed to have vanished. He couldn't feel anything but his dead body. And soon, he started to feel a strange pull.

He was dying.

His soul, not attached to something material, was being dragged through the barrier to a place where it could never come back. And he was totally powerless. He felt a sudden and terrible fear overwhelm him. He wasn't ready to die. That could not happen. He could not die. He forced himself to control his emotions, to calm down, and to overcome his fear, and did the only thing he could. He looked into himself, into Pyret's knowledge and his own, and knew what to do. He focused on the diminishing affinity with his body, and strengthened it. Then he forced his head to join the rest or his body. A moment later, his heart began to beat, and blood began to circulate through his veins and arteries once more. And then, before it was too late, he used his power to strengthen the weakened connection between the Essence of his soul and the Essence of his body.

"Aaah!" he yelled, when he felt air enter his lungs once more. He opened his eyes and moved to a sitting position, panting and shaking. "Merlin!" he exclaimed, looking down at his body, as if to ensure he was whole. "That was — that ..."

"It's not pleasant, I know, especially the first time," Anwar told him. "But you did very well. You've resurrected yourself, Ronald."

"It was horrible," he said. "I felt completely powerless."

"While we're not completely attached to our bodies, we have no power. We are incomplete. We can only manipulate the Essence of our own entity. That's how we can revive our bodies. Sbalkal's dream is to overcome that limitation. To become so powerful as to make the Universe his body. That way he would never die. He would be a true god." He made a pause. "Anyway, congratulations."

"Congratulations?"

"Well, what you've just done means that now, Ron, you are immortal."

Ron stared at him for a few seconds, lost for words, and then looked down at his hands and arms in awe.

_Immortal. Only Sbalkal could kill him now._

"I — I don't feel any different than a moment ago. I —"

"Of course, you don't. You were already immortal, Ron. You've just proven it to yourself. You won't understand what being immortal means until many years have passed."

"In case I live for so long," Ron commented.

"Yes," Anwar said. He put a hand on Ron's shoulder. "Now, let's go back to the house; you need to recuperate. Recovering from death the first time takes its toll on your soul. Rest for a few hours."

Ron nodded, and both walked towards the house. Once there, he headed for the kitchen, where Rhoda was busy making dinner.

"I can make a meal appear in a second, Rhoda," Ron told her. "I've been doing it for the last two weeks."

"Oh, I know. But I was bored, and since you were practising resurrection today, I imagined you'd be tired," she said, smiling at him.

"I'm fine."

"You don't look fine, Ron," she replied, staring at him. Ron could feel the pity she felt for him, something he appreciated and hated at the same time. "You haven't looked fine for months. Never, to tell the truth, but — well, since your daughter was born —"

Ron shrugged. "I'm coping."

"You want to be with them."

"Who wouldn't?"

"Many would give everything up to get the power and knowledge you have, Ron."

"Hermione and Rose are everything to me. Life without them is not worth anything. Even less if it is eternal life," he added bitterly.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Yeah, me too." He sighed, and then added, "And you see, in a few hours, my sister-in-law Audrey will give birth, too. I'm going to be an uncle again."

"Oh, Congratulations," she said. She wasn't very sure she should say that, though.

"They don't know yet. But in a few hours contractions will start. I can feel it."

Rhoda remained silent, not knowing what to say.

"I'm missing so many things. And I'm changing so fast ... sometimes I don't recognise myself. My family and my friends are the only things that connect me to my old life, to my old me. I don't want to lose that."

More silence.

"The old Death Eaters are working for Sbalkal. And he's getting stronger. In three days, there will be a meeting of the ICW, and I'm sure he will do something. I can't know what, but I know he'll make an appearance. Harry is taking care of the security, but nothing he does will be of use. They cannot stop him, and I am not ready to face him." A scowl appeared on his face. "I've tried to locate the other man, the one who saved Hermione, but it is impossible. I cannot detect him. He could help. Why isn't he doing anything?"

"Maybe he can't face him, either," suggested Rhoda.

"Maybe." Ron moved next to the window, and stood there, in silence, while Rhoda continued making dinner.

"Do you want to have dinner with us?" she asked him after a while. "I know you don't need to eat, but you can."

Ron turned round and stared at her. "Thank you, but no. I think I'm going to my room. I want to meet my new niece. See you tomorrow," he said, and left the kitchen, feeling Rhoda's sad look fixed on his back.

— — o — —

Ron opened his eyes slowly. He had been meditating for three hours, after having been killed four times. He had already mastered the art of resurrecting his body, but it was still a very unpleasant experience. This part of the training had made him realise, despite his initial reluctance, how much he had grown accustomed to having his new powers. And being without them, being able only to repair his body, was awful.

After the fourth time, Anwar had considered it was more than enough, and had told him to meditate. He had developed every skill Anwar had, and, having the privilege of possessing Pyret's extraordinary knowledge, he needed nothing else but to explore it and let his power grow. He knew he wasn't prepared yet to understand everything Pyret had known, the accumulated wisdom of many centuries, but he understood enough. He had, in fact, gone beyond what Anwar could teach him. He was, for all purposes, a Master of Essence.

However, this morning he had been unable to concentrate as well as usual, and the reason was the meeting of the ICW that would take place in a few minutes. It was a meeting that Harry, Hermione, Percy, Neville and Kingsley, among many others, would attend.

"I need to get them out of there," Ron commented, trying, unsuccessfully, to control his anxiety.

"You can't do that," said Anwar calmly. "You know it."

"Sbalkal is going to be there!" Ron shouted. "You know it, and I know it! He hasn't even tried to conceal his intentions!"

"Maybe he expects you to go. Perhaps now he feels strong enough to confront you."

"Then I should go! Before he gets too strong for me!"

"You're not ready, Ron. I think you have a few weeks before the growing rate of his powers goes up. That time may be essential for you."

"I can't let him hurt them!"

Anwar didn't say anything.

"You can't ask me to stay here and just watch!"

"That's exactly what I am asking you," said Anwar. "However ... I no longer have the power to stop you, Ron. If you want to go, there's nothing I can do to prevent it. But I advise you not to go."

Ron didn't know what to do. Which was the right decision? He tried to look into the future, to determine what would happen if he went or stayed, but he was unable to get a good answer. Sbalkal was a very important variable, and he was concealing his plans. The future was veiled.

Frustrated, he focused again on the meeting. Robard, the Supreme Mugwump, was starting his intervention. Harry was in an adjacent room, watching everything, and Hermione —

Ron shook his head. For a moment, he had lost contact. He focused on Hermione once more, but something was wrong. It was as if something were interfering with his ability to _see_ things. And not just the meeting. His awareness of everything else was failing.

"Ron?" Anwar asked. "Are you all right?"

"I — there's something wrong. I'm having difficulty seeing what's happening. I don't know why."

Anwar stared at him, fear etched upon his face.

"Do you think it is Sbalkal?"

"I — I don't know, but it's getting worse. And it's not just my perception. My other powers are failing, too. I feel ... weak."

"Yes, I can see that, but I can't determine the reason."

"What if it is Sbalkal who's doing this to me?" Ron asked, worried. He didn't even know that it was possible for one Master of Essence to annul the powers of another ...

He fell to his knees. There was nothing wrong with his body, but, accustomed as he was to sustaining it with his power, losing it was too much for him.

"What's wrong with me?" Ron asked, confused and scared.

"I don't know," Anwar said. He seemed very worried, too. "I don't understand."

"I can barely see what's happening," Ron muttered. "Tell me."

Anwar said nothing, though, and, when Ron looked up at him, he saw that he was very tense.

"What?" he asked.

"He's there," Anwar said. "Sbalkal's there. He has just killed the Aurors guarding the entrance, and now he's walking into the main room."

Ron got up. "I've got to go."

"You can't, Ron! Not in your condition! We need to find out what's happening to you!"

"Hermione, Harry, Neville and a lot of people I know are there!" Ron yelled.

"Even if you could teleport yourself to that room, the only thing you would achieve would be to be killed in front of them!"

Ron closed his eyes. Since that time, in the cellar of Malfoy Manor, he hadn't felt such impotence. "What's he doing? Everything's ... _blurred._"

"He intends to seize control of the Wizarding world," Anwar explained. "He wants all the Wizarding countries to accept him as their lord and supreme ruler."

"Harry will try to do something," Ron commented, almost mad with worry. "He doesn't understand what he is. None of them do."

Anwar didn't say anything.

Suddenly, Ron felt something. It was weak, but he felt his worry increase. "Something's happened," he said. "What is it? Tell me!"

"Your friend Neville tried to confront him," Anwar said. "Sbalkal hurt him, but he's not in immediate danger, and — Oh, no!"

"WHAT?"

"The Minister of Magic. He's defied him. He doesn't know what he's getting in and —"

"WHAT?" Ron yelled, scared and curious, but, even before hearing Anwar's response, he knew. The feeling was confusing, but there could only be one explanation.

"Sbalkal has killed him."

"SON OF A BITCH!" Ron yelled, desperate. "FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!"

"Someone tried to kill Sbalkal with a Stabbing Curse. And now — now he's gone on a killing spree."

"No, no, no, no!" moaned Ron, trying to get up. "Hermione, Percy, Harry, and Neville ... they're — What's that?" he asked suddenly. "I felt something — something very strange ..."

"It's him," Anwar explained. "The other Master of Essence. The one who saved your wife. He's there."

"At last he decided to help!" Ron shouted, and then fell to the ground once more, shaking, too weak to even move.

"He's told everyone to get out, and now he's fighting Sbalkal, but —"

"But?"

"He's not strong enough," Anwar said. "Even I can feel it, though he's concealing himself in a way I had never seen before. I reckon he won't be able to stop Sbalkal; he's just giving people time to get out."

Ron tried again to see for himself, but he couldn't. His power was there, but it was as if he couldn't reach it. The feeling of impotence was overwhelming.

"SHIT!" he shouted. "If I could go there, maybe, between the two of us, we could defeat him!" Anger and despair were dominating him now. All lessons about emotion control seemed now forgotten. He let out a new cry of frustration, and then, suddenly, he felt a sudden, odd relief fill him. He stared at Anwar.

"They're safe," Anwar informed Ron. "They escaped."

"They did? Where are they?" Ron asked eagerly.

"They're back at The Burrow," Anwar said. "And now the other is gone, too. It's just Sbalkal down there in that room."

"He's gone? Were you able to trace him? To know where he came from, or where he's gone?"

"No. And I think Sbalkal didn't, either. He's terribly furious." He looked at Ron. "Like you, it seems he's forgotten how to control his own emotions." He sighed. "However, I think he got what he wanted. The Wizarding world is in his grasp."

_But Hermione, Harry, Percy and Neville are safe,_ Ron thought. He felt relieved, very relieved, and then, a strange weakness overcame him, and, before he could do anything, he dropped to the ground, unconscious.

— — o — —

He woke up with a jolt. He was on his bed, and Anwar was leaning against the wall next to the window.

"You are all right," Anwar told him.

But Ron already knew it. He could feel his power again. With a thought, he was standing next to Anwar, and knew, with no effort, what was happening at The Burrow.

"You started to recover the moment you lost consciousness," Anwar explained. "You've been out cold for —"

"— ten minutes," Ron finished for him. "I know."

"But I don't know what happened to you. And that worries me a lot. In all my years, I had never seen something like that."

"Well, you had never seen anyone like me, either," said Ron. "Someone whose power had been increased artificially, like mine."

"Yes, that's true," Anwar said. "But still ... I'm very worried, Ron."

"We'll find out," Ron said, staring out of the window. "Right now I'm more worried about all those people Sbalkal killed." He turned to look at Anwar. "You don't seem affected by that slaughter. I'm almost glad I was practically blind when it happened. Just the echoes of it make me sick. All those people and all those families torn apart. It's awful! And here you are, as if nothing had happened."

Anwar let out a sad chuckle. "I've seen uncountable deaths, Ron. I've watched dozens of wars and thousands of people being killed in seconds. No, a few dozens deaths is not a shock to me. It happens all the time, and you know it. Sbalkal has killed thousands of people; that's true. But in the list of the greatest mass-killers of all time, he's not even in the top ten."

Ron didn't say anything, because he knew Anwar was right. He had looked at the past, during his trainings, and the amount of pain and suffering almost had driven him mad at times. The awareness of Masters of Essence was, at the same time, a gift and a curse.

"However, that doesn't mean I don't suffer. Death is horrible when the soul is not ready. But still, you know as I do, that souls don't belong here. They grow here and they learn here, but their true place is on the other side of the veil, of the barrier. And besides, I don't focus on death and pain. There's so much love out there, Ron. Feel it, and let it envelope you. Let it be your reason to fight."

Anwar made a pause, and then spoke once more. "I would have died long ago, you see. But I didn't, because I had a reason to resist, to fight. I don't have a real family, but the entire humanity is my family, Ron. There's so much beauty, so many hopes, so many dreams, and so many good things that should be preserved. And while there is one person able to love and to dream, I'll fight evil. And if I've got to sacrifice my life, I will."

Ron stared at him, moved by his words. He was right. Even if his entire family died, he would go on and he still would try to stop Sbalkal, because, as Anwar had said, there was so much love out there, so many dreams and hopes that should be protected. He would do anything. And then, suddenly, realised what Anwar had said.

"What do you mean, sacrifice your life?"

Anwar stared at him gravely. "You'll need all the help you can get, Ron. But I'd be just a nuisance if I fought alongside you. When you are ready to face him, I'll sacrifice myself. And I'll give to you what's left of my power. It's not much, but I hope it will help you. And then I'll be able to rest at last, knowing I did everything in my power to stop him."

Ron looked at him, horrified. "I can't let you do that!"

"Yes, you can. I've lived a very long life, Ron. I did what I had to. Now it's your time. Maybe the other can help you. And then it will be the two of you. There will still be two Masters of Essence to train others, and to protect the world."

Ron didn't know what to say.

— — o — —

Ron stopped his meditation abruptly. Around him, the circular beam of light and magic he had created vanished. He looked at Anwar, who was observing him.

"The bloody idiot is going to go along with his stupid plan!"

"Yes."

"He is going to get himself killed!" Ron yelled. "Why doesn't he listen to Hermione? Hasn't he learned anything? The Elder Wand will be useless against Sbalkal! He knows they have been watching him!"

"Harry Potter is only doing what he thinks is right."

"Which, in this case, is stupid!"

"That happens frequently, yes."

"Sbalkal is not going to let them escape, not this time."

"Perhaps he thinks it's time to draw you out of your hiding place."

"Maybe he's right. The rate at which his powers are growing is increasing. We haven't got much time left.

"No, we haven't. If you aren't ready now, you probably never will be."

Ron watched Harry, Neville, Artemius Pye, Aldus Humpton and James Stockwood enter the mansion, defeat Sbalkal's men, and then face him.

"No, no," he muttered, when Harry tried to beat Sbalkal with the Elder Wand. But Harry couldn't perceive what he could, the way Sbalkal had annulled the wand's ability to channel magic. Right now it wasn't different than any stick Harry could have picked up from a tree.

The wand flew out of Harry's hands and into Sbalkal's, who split it in two, then stood up and walked towards them, ready to kill.

James tried to stop him and give the others time to flee, but he was beaten by Sbalkal immediately. And Ron knew this was Harry's end. Harry, his brother - his best friend, was about to die, and no sacrifice, no one, could save him now.

No one ... except him - Ron.

He focused on James, and revived him. Then, filled him with magic. Overcome by the sudden burst of power, and struck by some inspiration he couldn't understand, James pointed his wand at Sbalkal and enveloped him in flames.

"Ron!" Anwar yelled.

But Ron didn't pay him attention. At the manor, Harry and the others were Disapparating out of Sbalkal's reach — at least, for the time being. Ron, however, didn't focus on that. He was still focused on Sbalkal, who was terribly furious. He hadn't traced him, because he had been able to conceal his intervention. But he no longer needed to discover where this haven was, because he was forming a new plan, a plan he wasn't even trying to conceal, because he wanted Ron to know.

"He's going to The Burrow," Ron said out loud. "He's going to The Burrow, to kill them all ... and I can't let him do that." He looked at Anwar. "Perhaps I'm not the Master of Essence you thought I'd be," he declared. "Maybe I shouldn't go. Maybe I shouldn't care for them so specifically, but I do. I can't let him hurt them. I can't. So I'm going."

Anwar stared at him for a few seconds, and then simply nodded.

"It's time, then. Let's go to the house."

Ron transported them there. Antoine and Rhoda were outside, sitting at the table playing a game of Wizarding chess.

"The day has come," Anwar told them.

"No!" Rhoda shouted, and stood up. "Maesse, you can't!"

"I _must_," Anwar replied, completely calm. "I just wanted to say good-bye, and thank you for these years, your help, and your company. I wish you the best for the rest of your lives."

"It's been a pleasure and a real honour, Maesse," Antoine said.

Rhoda seemed unable to say anything. Thick tears were running down her cheeks.

"We're running out of time," Anwar said. "Are you ready, Ron?"

"You don't have to do this."

"Do you want to save them, or not?"

Ron stared at him. What do you do when no choice seems right?

Finally, he nodded. Satisfied, Anwar stood before him, and closed his eyes. Ron did the same. He knew what he had to do, because Pyret had known. A moment later, he felt the push of Anwar's soul against his, the sudden connection between the two and the new entity that appeared as a result of the temporary union. Immediately, he felt the vibration, the one they couldn't really understand and that gave them their powers to add to his own. And for an instant, he and Anwar were one.

_Do you feel the love, Ron? In the world? The desire to live, to do things, and to be happy, of millions of people?_

_I do._

_Never forget that. Never forget that countless people love others as you love Hermione, as you love your daughter. Love is greater than anything and anyone. Protect it, Ron._

_I will._

And then, powerless and unable to connect to his body anymore, Anwar's soul lost its affinity with Ron's, slipped away, and crossed the veil, leaving this part of the Universe forever.

His lifeless body fell to the ground.

Ron felt weak for a moment, but Anwar had given him this willingly and, soon, his soul assimilated the gift. It was not much, but it could make a difference.

"Thank you, master," he muttered sadly, opening his eyes and looking at his body. Rhoda was now kneeling next to it. "I promise I'll do everything in my power to stop him."

"Maesse ..." Rhoda said, sobbing. "It's been such an honour to have met you."

Ron put a hand over her shoulder.

"He is where he wants to be," Ron said softly. "He is free, and can rest at last. Don't be sad for him."

Rhoda brushed her eyes with her right sleeve.

"Now I've got to go," Ron continued. He felt horrible for leaving like this, without giving Anwar a proper burial, but he was running out of time. "If I don't win ... thanks for everything."

"Good luck, Ron," Antoine said.

"Good l-luck," Rhoda repeated, her voice hoarse and weak.

Ron focused again on Sbalkal. He was there, just in front of The Burrow. The enchantments had been lifted (Why had he lifted them? He didn't need to.), and he was about to enter.

Ron created a token, sort of a coin, and changed the vibration of its matter. Then he put the token in Antoine's hand, who looked at it, confused.

"This will help you go back to Earth," Ron said. "Just — just in case I don't come back. Thank you again — and good luck."

Antoine gulped, and nodded.

He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. He was determined, but scared, too. Nothing he had done before compared to this. The future of the world depended on him, and, despite everything he had seen and everything he could do, he felt small and insecure.

But there was no choice, except that of a coward. And he was a Gryffindor.

He disappeared. The Earth was too far away to transfer all his Essence there in just one rynx of time, and so, without really affecting the rynxes in between, crossed distances so vast it could drive a normal person insane, and then appeared again, mere seconds later, just behind Sbalkal. Sbalkal wheeled around incredibly fast, not surprised at all, and Ron launched himself at him. He embraced him, and then teleported them to a solitary, frozen island near the North Pole.

They fell onto the snow and rolled over a few times. Immediately, they disentangled from each other and then jumped to their feet, one twenty feet from the other.

"Ronald Weasley," Sbalkal said. "You came, as I knew you would. It's been a long time — to mortals, at least."

"Anxious to see me?" Ron asked, trying to sound braver than he felt. "Because I came to destroy you, once and for all."

"That's what you think, yes," Sbalkal said, and smiled. "But no. You're not here to fight me, Ron; you are here to join me."

* * *

_So that's it! We're reaching the climax of this part. Last chapter, 'A Tale of Good and Evil', will be published around Thursday or Friday! Get ready!_


	26. A Tale of Good and Evil

_Well, the final chapter of this part, and one I'm particularly proud of. I want you to read it with an open mind and to pay attention (and try to understand) what Sbalkal says. Try to think of what you'd __**really**__do if you were on Ron's shoes._

_Lots of thanks to __**Kathy **__for her help, especially given how busy she's been!_

_I hope you give lots of reviews with your thoughts. There won't be an A/N at the end of the chapter._

_As with part 2, there will be a delay before part 3. Next chapter will be posted in about two weeks, though I can't exactly which day__. See you and thanks for your support._

* * *

**PART II**

**TALES OF OLD SECRETS**

_**Chapter 26**_

**A Tale of Good and Evil**

* * *

A soft, cold breeze swept the snowy landscape while Ron stared at Sbalkal disbelievingly. He didn't know what he expected, but it certainly wasn't that.

"You must be joking."

"I never joke," Sbalkal said.

"Then you must be insane. Join you? A murderer? You ordered your men to attack Hermione. You killed Julie. And, a moment ago, you were going to kill all my family. Never, ever would I join you!"

Sbalkal laughed contemptuously. "You should never say 'never,' especially when you're immortal," he said. Then he seemed to realise something else, and added, "Although, of course, you haven't understood what that means yet. Do you seriously think you are here to defeat me? _You?_" he asked, his tone cruel and disdainful. "Someone who should have never become a Master of Essence. Someone who got his powers by accident. Someone mediocre and insecure, who doesn't even understand what he has become." He laughed. "I can't imagine how disappointed Anwar must have felt. So many years hiding, waiting for someone that could defeat me ... and Pyret brought him _you_."

"Playing with my old insecurities won't be of use to you. That trick has been used before, and it doesn't work anymore."

"I'm not playing tricks, Ron," Sbalkal said. "I'm merely stating the truth. And you know I am right. You can't defeat me, even with Pyret's knowledge. Even though that idiot Anwar sacrificed himself to give you what's left of his powers. And if you can't defeat me, then you must be here to join me. You haven't realised it yet, but you will.

"I am a murderer, you say," he continued. "I've killed people, yes. And so what, Ron? Do you think what I've done is so terrible? I was born in a little village in East Europe. Pyret found me there when I was just eleven years old. And by then, I was tired of seeing people get killed. People die all the time; it's their fate, their destiny. They can't escape it. What's the difference, a few years later or sooner?"

Ron gritted his teeth and clenched his fists.

"It's completely different for them!" he yelled.

"You could say that for every living creature, couldn't you?" Sbalkal replied. "And yet that never stopped you from eating meat."

"That's — that's different!" said Ron. "Animals are different than us," he added, but, even while he was saying it, he knew what Sbalkal would reply.

"And mortals are different than us, too," he said.

"You once were one of them."

"Yes, a thousand and five hundred years ago."

"I care for them. I feel them. _I love them_."

"Oh, yes," said Sbalkal mockingly. "And besides that, you are _in love_," he spat, not hiding how disgusted he felt. "A Master of Essence, in love. Ridiculous. Didn't Pyret and Anwar teach you anything?"

"Shut up!" Ron yelled. "What do you know about love? Have you ever tasted what love feels like? No! So don't talk about what you don't understand!"

"You think I need to be in love to know what it is like?" Sbalkal replied. "I feel it all the time. Why would I want to be in love with a mortal creature, with someone that can't give me anything, or even understand me? What can they offer me? Sex?" he said with a sneer. "The necessities of our bodies are nothing but a problem. You know what my ultimate goal is. Pleasuring my body would be another weakness. Is that what this is all about? You miss your Hermione pleasuring you?"

"Don't talk about her."

"If that is it, Ronald, why do you need her? You can have any woman you want, whenever you want them. None of them would refuse you. You could make them desire you. You could have everything you wanted. Everything," he remarked.

"You make me sick!" Ron bellowed, disgusted by Sbalkal's words and what they implied. "No, that's not what love is about! You say you understand, but it is obvious you don't."

Sbalkal laughed. Ron frowned.

"Don't play with me," he said. "I know what you are. Anwar described you as the Master of Darkness, of Evil. If you think you can lure me with promises of sex you are dead wrong."

Sbalkal laughed again.

"I've been playing with you for quite some time, Ron, and you played along. Unknowingly, of course. But you're right. The time for games has ended." His laughter died out, and he stared at him coldly. "You're right. I am a master of evil. I accepted evil for what it is, and I'm not ashamed of that. I studied and experimented with it. I looked into the darkest parts of souls. I created Dementors. And thanks to all those experiments I finally understood how I could use souls to strengthen mine. I understood that, as I was evil, I needed evil souls, souls that had corrupted themselves, could mix with mine, and were weakened so I could dominate them. You know, I've always known how to draw the evilness out of people, for my own purposes. However, in the end, evil is a choice. Those people I killed to make my soul stronger chose to follow me. They wanted to do it; they just were insecure, dubious, and afraid of the consequences. But I helped them free themselves. And they let their wild side take over, and that's why they were so cruel and so vicious. That suited me, of course, and I encouraged it, because I wanted you to feel sick and be horrified, so you couldn't think straight and wouldn't be a problem for me." He chuckled. "And that's why I'm destined to rule the world, Ron. Because I am the master of evil, and evil is everywhere and controls everything."

"That's a lie," Ron replied, shaking in anger. And what did he mean, 'you wouldn't be a problem for me?'

"Is it?" Sbalkal said, raising an eyebrow at him. "You came here to try and defeat me. You were ready to give up on everything just to be powerful enough to stop me. You think that, by fighting me, you fight evil and help to build a better world. You've been doing it since you were eleven years old. You and your friends. And fifteen years later, you're as naive as you were back then. You believe you can defeat evil, but this, Ron, is an eternal fight, a fight that cannot be won, that never ends, because every victory is just the start of a new evil. Evil is unstoppable, because it is in every soul; we are individuals, and we are selfish, and evil is just the utmost expression of selfishness. You seek an enemy; call them evil and fight them. But this eternal fight against evilness is nothing but eternal denial of what really lies inside all of us."

"No," Ron said vehemently.

"No? I've seen it, Ron. And you can see it, too. Just look into their souls; see what lies there. Look into people's deepest desires, those they rarely confess, the ones they try to ignore most of the time. You are here to fight me, but it wasn't me who ordered the building of those extermination camps during the Second World War; it wasn't me who invented slavery; it wasn't me who burned people alive, accusing them of witchcraft; and neither was it me who came up with the idea of killing people in stadiums to entertain people. Evil is inside, always fighting to get out and make us free, so we can get what we want. Do you think it was Voldemort's fault what some of the Death Eaters did? No. They just used the protection he offered to unleash their most secret desires and to enjoy the cruellest pleasures. Just like it happens, and has always happened, in every war." Sbalkal looked at him with superiority. "Muggles had done dozens of experiments in which perfectly 'normal' people were able to do terrible things just because they thought they were _allowed_ to do so and because it was _accepted_."

"No," Ron said, though less convinced than before.

"I'm not making things up. You know it's true; you can see it for yourself, Ron. People who think themselves as good are nothing but people who lie to themselves. The truth is that they are evil. Even if secretly, they enjoy seeing others suffering. They enjoy others being ridiculed. They enjoy other people's failures, because that makes themselves feel better. And why shouldn't they feel that way? You yourself did, didn't you? I've studied you, Ron, and I know your past. Tell me you didn't feel good when that Cormac McLaggen screwed it up in that Quidditch match. Tell me how many times you got jealous of Harry. You can't even count them. And you know what? You shouldn't feel bad about it. Did he deserve the fame he got? Perhaps. Were his abilities or acts the cause of his survival? No. And yet people adored him! But at the same time they were eager to blame and accuse him at the first chance, weren't they? Because in their heart of hearts, people hate heroes; people don't like to think that someone is better than them. Deep inside, they want to see them fail.

"And well, good, glorious Harry Potter is not as good as he seems, either," Sbalkal continued. "He never wanted to be a prefect, and yet, when he saw you with the badge he thought that he deserved it much more than you; that neither you nor Hermione had done as much as he; and that only an idiot would make you prefect."

Ron looked to the side, into the horizon. He could not deny Sbalkal's statements. Being able to perceive other people's thoughts could be a horrible thing sometimes. He knew that those thoughts had crossed Harry's head. But he also knew that he had felt ashamed by them afterwards. And anyway, what Sbalkal had said about him was true, too. How could he blame Harry, when he was guilty of the same sin? Everyone thought horrible things sometimes. The human mind was a deep well. But, did that mean Sbalkal was right? He looked at him again, and remembered the locket. Voldemort had been good at causing mistrust and insecurity, but Sbalkal's skills were infinitely superior.

"I take your silence as admittance that I am right," Sbalkal said. "So let's go back to the main subject, shall we? We're wasting time, and though being us means that we have all the time in the Universe, I've got things to do.

"You see, Ron, when speaking about evil, you could put people in two categories: those who pursue a legitimate goal, but are ready to use whatever means necessary to achieve it — stealing, murdering — and those whose goal is evil itself, and get pleasure by doing evil things. But — are they really different? Is there a difference between a person who kills to get money from one who kills because he enjoys doing so? The answer is no. In both cases, they're acting out of selfishness, Ron. In both cases, they are seeking personal gain. The first one kills to get money. Money is their benefit, what they gain for doing an evil thing. The one who kills to get pleasure, for the joy of killing and of watching another person die, maybe even suffer, is the benefit in this case. Both of them are doing what it takes to get some benefit. There's no real difference between them.

"And on the other side, there are those who are considered 'good.' And again, you have two types: those who live their lives honestly, without hurting anybody, and those who are ready to sacrifice everything to help others. The latter are considered the most selfless. They are, by your standards, the epitome of good. You, Ron, among your dearest friends, belong in this group. You sacrificed everything to stop evil. You even almost gave up on everything you love to be able to get the power to defeat me. Almost everyone would say that you are remarkably selfless.

"And they would be dead wrong."

Ron narrowed his eyes. "If you are insinuating my gain is this power —"

Sbalkal laughed, and shook his head. "Oh, no! That's not what I mean. What I mean, Ronald, is that what you did, everything you endured and sacrificed, you did it for _you_."

"What!?" asked Ron, shocked.

"Don't lie to yourself!" Sbalkal yelled. "You know it, deep inside. You came after me when I decided to attack The Burrow. There are sixteen people there, and you came. However, you didn't move a finger when I killed all those people at the meeting of the International Confederation of Wizards. You didn't try to stop me when I destroyed Azkaban, either! You came today because the people I was going to kill are important to _you_. And you know what? You didn't even do it for them. You came because the idea of Hermione and your daughter dying, the idea of me slaughtering your family, is unbearable to _you_. You could not live with that. That, and only that, is the reason you came. A selfish reason, Ron." Sbalkal made a small pause, and then continued, relentlessly. "You fools believe that love is selfless." He laughed derisively. "You think the things you've done you did for Hermione, don't you? Because you love her. But if you are so selfless and you really love her so much, you would do anything for her and you would want nothing but to see her happy, wouldn't you?"

"Of course that's what I want —"

Sbalkal laughed loudly.

"Is it?" he asked. "So, if she had told you she loved Harry, would you have accepted that? You once believed she had chosen him over you, and what did you do? You left them. You don't want her happy, Ron. _You want her happy with you_. You want her for you. You'd do almost anything for her, yes, but only because it would benefit you as well."

"That's not true!" Ron protested. "That —"

"Isn't it?" Sbalkal asked. "Would you accept her leaving you to be with Harry, for example, if that made her happy? Would you still be her friend, if she still needed you in her life, except not as her lover? Do you love her so selflessly you'd do it?"

Ron didn't say anything, and tore his eyes away from Sbalkal. He would have loved to tell him that yes, he would accept that. But he wasn't sure whether that would be the case. And maybe thinking that he wasn't sure was only a way of lying to himself and making himself feel better. Something to make him feel good. Something selfish.

He started to feel very uneasy.

"You're only fooling yourself if you think so. But don't feel too bad, Ron, because she's not better. When you started going out with Lavender Brown, did she care to find out if you were happy with her? No. She couldn't have you, so she shut you out. And when you almost died, she took you back as her friend, but only because she preferred to have you as her friend than not have you at all." He smirked, sure of the damage he was doing. "And what about Harry Potter, the boy so selfless he was ready to give up on his life to save countless others? The truth is that he preferred to die than to live seeing you all die at Voldemort's hands. Harry Potter sacrificed himself because he could not stand the alternative," he concluded, and then fell silent, letting Ron digest what he had said.

It started to snow.

Ron felt cold, but not because of the weather. That couldn't affect him. He felt cold because of Sbalkal's words, which were having a terrible effect upon him. He tried to think of something to say or something to reply with, but nothing came to his mind. He had the knowledge of the world at his disposal, the Essence of the universe to help him think and expand his mind ... and it was useless. He couldn't think of a single argument. If there was one, it had to be very difficult to find. After all, Sbalkal was the Master of Darkness; he had explored the deepest and more horrible parts of human nature.

"Don't try to reply," Sbalkal said, after half a minute of silence. "You know I'm right. So we've come to an important conclusion: you aren't here because you're a hero, or because you want to stop me and make a better world. You are here for a simple and selfish reason — because you want to save your wife and your daughter, and, by extension, your family and friends.

"But while you are standing there, ready to attack me, you are forgetting your true enemy; the one that, no matter what you do, will take them away from you."

Ron narrowed his eyes.

"What're you talking about?" he asked.

"Time, Ron," said Sbalkal. "While we talk, the clock's ticking for them. While we stand here, they are getting older. Each day that passes is one less they have left, and, in a few years, and sooner than you think, they will die. And even though you could delay the moment, even though you could help them live for hundreds of years, no matter what you do their souls will get exhausted, and when that happens, they'll die. And then, you, the Master of Essence who was in love, what will you do?"

And as Sbalkal was talking, Ron saw it: Hermione ageing and dying, his daughter ageing and dying, of his grandchildren ageing and dying ... and he knew, with the awareness of Masters of Essence, that it would happen that way...

He shivered.

"That is something every human has to endure, Ron. But for you and me, there's a choice. You and me, together, can change the affinity of our souls; can become an entity and yet keep our own personalities. But our power will mix, and with my knowledge and Pyret's, we'll be unstoppable. Our will won't have any match, and together we'll get power enough to override the force of the barrier. We'll be not just Masters of Essence, but Masters of Life and Death! We'll have the power to bring the dead back, to rejuvenate souls so the people we choose will never die! Think about that, Ronald! You and me, true gods!"

Ron looked at him, mesmerised. What Sbalkal was proposing was nothing but the end of all his fears. Since he had started his training, facing an eternity of loneliness had been his worst fear. And now, here it was, a way to be happy forever.

_Happy forever_.

"Think about it," Sbalkal continued. "No more threats, no more danger. All you've ever wanted is within your hand's reach."

"Minutes ago, you were ready to kill my family. And now you're offering me a way to save them?"

"Ronald, Ronald. What interest do I have in them? For me they're just mortals. You know that I didn't start a repression campaign, neither have I oppressed people. Quite the contrary. They can do whatever they want, as long as they see me as their master."

"What interest do you have in them?" Ron asked. "You tell me! You've been after my daughter since this started! Probably to use her in one of your sick experiments!"

Sbalkal stared at him for a few seconds, and then began to laugh.

"Anwar told you that?" he asked.

"Yes," Ron said, seriously. "He told me that I was the first person with developed abilities to ever have a child and that you wanted to know whether that would give her these abilities."

"He was nothing but an idiot, and you're not better," Sbalkal replied. "If I had wanted to test that theory, I could have had a child myself, don't you think? Yes, it's true that I was a bit curious, and when Hermione was brought to the hospital I checked her, but that was all. I want to be the only one, why would I want to know if our children are like us?"

"But —" said Ron, completely bewildered. "You told me you were interested in her because she was _my _daughter."

"Yes," nodded Sbalkal. "Because she was your daughter. And I threatened Hermione because she was your wife, your best friend, and the most important person in the world for you. And I killed Julie because she made you feel proud and because you loved her.

"Don't you get it, why I did all those things?" Sbalkal asked disdainfully. "Eight years ago, the same night Voldemort died and I took all the pieces of his _sôhr_ to strengthen mine, I noticed something in you. Back then, weakened as I was and fighting to dominate Voldemort's soul, I didn't realise what it was. Pyret did a good job trying to conceal you, I can't deny it ... but eventually, I realised that you had our abilities, somewhat. Your powers were growing, and looking into the past, I fully understood what had happened that day in the Department of Mysteries. And I understood that maybe one day you could have the ability to stop me and to see through my plan, a plan I had spent so many years working on," he said, staring at Ron. "Even if you weren't trained, you had the power. Your instincts had helped you to save your friends from the Taboo Jinx. And when you began to work for the Ministry, you started making suggestions about strengthening security. What if, when my men started killing to corrupt their souls, you realised what my real intention was? What if, somehow, you could destroy the Archway? I couldn't allow it. But I also knew that I shouldn't kill you. I knew that the knowledge I needed was inside the brain. So what could I do? What should I do? And then I knew. Our power needs self-control. I just needed your instincts focused on something else. And that's why I did all that. Threatening Hermione and your daughter, making you believe I was after them, and killing Julie ... those acts were nothing but a way to unhinge you. And it worked rather well."

"You — you —" Ron said, horrified.

"I killed people you loved to make sure you wouldn't be a problem for me," Sbalkal continued. "I stole those files, and sent that threatening letter, just to make you worry. What interest could I have in the files otherwise? But because of that, your mind was set on protecting Hermione and your daughter, and couldn't focus on me. That's why I made Blevelty stop you from investigating and instead put you in charge of protection."

Ron didn't know what to say, horrified as he was. So it had been all to prevent him from screwing up his plan?

"Don't you remember, Ron?" Sbalkal said. "The day I killed Julie, I told you that if your mind were in the right state, you'd know the truth. But it wasn't."

"You fucking monster!" yelled Ron, outraged. "And after telling me this, you expect me to join you!?"

"I could have killed her, Ron. I could have killed Hermione and the rest of your family. That would have destroyed you. But I didn't, as proof that what I'm offering you is real. By letting you live, I knew that you could become a Master of Essence. And yet I allowed it. I just proved to you that you are here just for your selfish reasons. And I'm offering you a way to get what you want."

"You said that you were evil and that you were selfish. You're doing this for your own good. Why would you want to share your power, except if you fear that I can defeat you?"

"Oh, I won't lie. I'd prefer to do this by myself. I still can. But killing you would mean the loss of your power. That's not really a great loss, you know, but you have something else, something hard to get and far more valuable: Pyret's knowledge. The loss of that would be terrible. He increased your power artificially even without being alive. That knowledge, Ron ... is priceless. Besides, together our power would grow more quickly."

"You killed Julie. You killed Kingsley. Do you really think I'd form an entity with someone like _you_?"

"Oh, I killed Julie! I've already explained, haven't I? _I had to_. Join me, and one day, we shall understand how to give their souls the vibration of life, and then we shall be able to bring them back and give them new bodies."

"Hermione would never want that. She would never accept immortality if the price is joining someone like you. Neither would Harry. And, if I am sincere, the idea makes me feel sick," Ron spat, throwing a disgusted look at Sbalkal. "Maybe you're right. Maybe we are a bit selfish. But the truth is that there is a difference between us. Even if I do what I do for myself, I feel good when other people are safe and happy, not when they suffer! I AM NOT LIKE YOU!"

"I see," said Sbalkal calmly, and Ron perceived a terrible danger in his tone. "So, once more, you choose what you think is the _right_ thing to do, and again you choose selfishly. You reject my offer because your wife wouldn't want you back that way, because your daughter and your friends would be ashamed of you. If you were selfless and if you were good, you'd choose the option that wouldn't bring a battle between us, a battle that, despite our limited powers, could do so much damage to this planet. You choose without understanding that; either way, you've lost your wife. Though undeserving of it, the power and knowledge you've got put you above her. She will never understand you; she will never be enough for you!"

"You won't convince me," Ron replied, though, deep inside, his words had affected him. "I still think you wouldn't share anything if you can have it alone! You must be afraid of me!"

"Afraid of you?" Sbalkal repeated with a sneer. "You thought I was interested in your daughter. You don't understand me at all. _You've got no idea_. But if that's your final choice, so be it."

"So be it," Ron repeated. He prepared himself to fight, but Sbalkal was quicker. A terrible force crushed him, destroying most of his bones, and he fell to the frozen ground, moaning.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed, before repairing his body and standing up again.

"You think I'm afraid of you?" said Sbalkal. He moved incredibly fast. Ron perceived him, and used his power to try to stop him, but, again, Sbalkal was quicker, and punched his chest so hard that Ron was thrown backwards. He landed twenty yards away, quite hard, and slid a few more over the frozen ground. He moaned again. Sbalkal had broken his breastbone and a few ribs.

He knelt, again recomposing his body, when his senses alerted him. He used the power of his will to stop a new blow from his enemy, this time intended for his face, but Sbalkal made a sword appear in his left hand and ran Ron through with it, directly into his heart. He felt the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, and spat it out, coughing.

"Afraid of you, who seems not to have mastered control of pain yet? Afraid of you, who has barely started to understand what he has become? _I_, who have been alive for fifteen hundred years, who have killed and fought Masters of Essence much more powerful than you, afraid of an idiot who got his powers by chance and was trained for just five months?" He twisted the sword inside the wound. "Afraid of someone too weak to accept what could be his? Never!" he yelled, and threw his fist against Ron's face, breaking his jaw, nose and twelve teeth.

Ron half spun in the air and feel to his knees, coughing and sputtering, before remembering what he had learned in those lessons with Anwar. He didn't need air. He could stop pain.

_Focus, you idiot! _he scolded himself.

"Look at you ... you are pathetic."

He sensed him get closer. Having already mended his body, he wheeled around very quickly, raised his hands and shot a streak of flames and lightning bolts towards his opponent. He retreated, but was caught in the flames and electricity. Ron could feel his body burning, his cells disintegrating. But soon, he was able to stop the attack, and teleported himself forty yards away. Ron saw his body and robes smoke, but they soon began to repair themselves.

"You know what?" Sbalkal said. "You're right. I never intended to let you share my power. I would have dominated you, and your soul. You would have been my prisoner, and I would have gained control over your power and knowledge."

"I knew you were nothing but a liar," Ron said.

"I hoped, though, that you'd accept. That day, when I killed that stupid girl, I wanted to gauge your reaction. I wanted to see how I should tempt you. I was convinced you would try to get the girl, even if that meant I escaped. Not that you could have really caught me that day if you had chosen otherwise, but I wanted to be sure. And you didn't disappoint me. You chose your loved ones over what was better for the world. You preferred to save her life instead of stopping me. I knew I couldn't kill you if I wanted to get the knowledge of Pyret's brain. That meant that there was a great chance of you becoming a Master of Essence, but I was willing to take the risk, and besides, getting you to join me was the only way to get Pyret's knowledge.

"And when you came back, trained, I knew for what you'd give up everything. I knew that when faced with the choice between the lives of your loved ones or anything else, you'd choose the first. But I made a mistake. I underestimated you — or maybe I _overestimated_ you. You rejected my offer.

"But that doesn't mean you've made the right choice," Sbalkal continued. "If you had accepted, this battle would have ended. Yes, you'd be finished, but your loved ones could go on with their lives, for I have no interest in them. I would have conquered the world without a war. But no, you chose to fight." His expression hardened. "And I want you to know that I won't be merciful now. After I have killed you, I'll tend to them. And no, I won't simply kill them. That would cause you to reunite, and would put them out of my reach for the time being. No," he said, his voice full of cruelty, "I'll keep them alive for as long as I can. I'll sentence them to an endless torture and to an eternal nightmare of pain and horror. I'll make Harry rape Hermione and your daughter." Ron felt the blood run cold in his veins. "I'll make your father torture your mother. I'll make your brothers and sister beat one another until they're a bloody mess. And when I get tired of this, I'll do things to their souls and minds so terrible they will beg for me to kill them, for the mere idea of continuing living will mean hell for them. But I won't, and they'll keep living until they curse your name and the very moment they met you. And you, on the other side, will have to watch it, impotent, unable to help them, so when they finally die and join you, they won't be but a shadow of what they are now!"

Ron was burning with anger.

"SHUT UP!" he yelled. Around Sbalkal, the matter of air, earth and snow exploded violently. A column of flames and smoke rose into the air, and Ron himself had to use his power to prevent the shock wave from throwing him backwards.

He hadn't caught Sbalkal, though. He had been quicker, and had Apparated behind him, on the top of a rock. But while he was still materialising, Ron wheeled around and shot a ball of energy at him. Sbalkal avoided it once more, moving away from the rock before it exploded.

"You're losing your aim," Sbalkal said mockingly. Ron roared, his fury devouring him, and extended his hands towards his opponent. A powerful surge of energy burst from them, but, before it could touch Sbalkal, it spread out, destroying part of the surrounding landscape. Ron insisted, making pushing movements with his hands, sending what seemed like walls of force, but Sbalkal avoided them without even moving. He hadn't even raised his arms, which hung limply at his sides. However, with each surge of power, he was pushed a few yards backwards, and, between them, the snow had melted, and the ground had cracked.

Then Sbalkal counter-attacked. Ron felt a terrible force push him, trying to crush his body. He raised his hands once more and held them before him as a shield, trying to contain the violent attack coming from his enemy.

"Do you think you're still carrying a wand?" he jeered. "Use your mind, not your hands!" he yelled. "I told you, Ronald, that day, when I killed Julie, that you could unveil the truth if your mind was in the right state, but you ignored me! You let your worry about Hermione, your daughter and your family overwhelm you! And now you're making the same mistake. I threatened your family, and you've lost focus." He strengthened his attack, and Ron had to make a bigger effort to contain it. "You haven't assimilated what you are; you're still thinking as a human!"

Ron tried to attack back, but he couldn't. Sbalkal was right, and he knew it. He could barely think. The idea of losing this battle was too terrible. He was sure that Sbalkal would carry out his threat, and that was unbearable. He and Anwar had been fools. Even with Pyret's help, and how he had managed to become a Master of Essence in just five months, he wasn't ready. And Sbalkal had fought like this before. He knew how to do it.

But then, a thought, something he had almost missed, struck him, and, with his hopes renewed, he teleported to one side. As Sbalkal's force push destroyed an immense pile of rocks, he focused his will on his enemy's body, and his efforts were rewarded when he saw his right shoulder explode in a cloud of blood and flesh. The arm fell to the ground.

However, Sbalkal didn't even moan. He turned towards Ron, unconcerned, as if he had cut one of his hairs instead of one of his arms.

"Idiot. Physical pain means nothing to me." Immediately, the arm rose up from the ground and attached itself to the reconstructing shoulder. A moment later, it was as if nothing had happened.

"Even if I die," Ron said, "there's still another Master of Essence. He stopped you twice. He'll try once more." Ron didn't know how he was expecting Sbalkal to react to this, but laughing had not been one of the possibilities he had considered.

"You think he's on your side?" he asked, when his laugh died out.

"He saved Hermione twice."

"Yes," Sbalkal admitted. "But if he's on your side, why isn't he, right now, helping you?"

Ron pressed his lips together. "I don't know," he admitted.

"You don't know," Sbalkal said. "He saved your family, yes. He even helped Dumbledore, and you, during the other war. But why? Because he's your friend? Or maybe because he knew that if Hermione was hurt, you wouldn't be able to finish your training? How do you know he isn't waiting for one of us to win, and then come and defeat the winner, when we're weak due to the battle?"

It was as if someone had dropped a bucket of cold water over Ron. He hadn't thought of that. While looking into the past, he had been sure of the man's good intentions. But if he really wanted to help, even if he couldn't defeat Sbalkal on his own, why wasn't he helping Ron? He was somewhere, hiding.

"Didn't think about that, did you?" Sbalkal asked. "Don't worry. You're not very intelligent, surely you have realised that by now."

Ron clenched his fists. Sbalkal had managed to turn his last hope into a possible threat. He felt lost, and too worried to think straight. He was doing a wonderful job of controlling his emotions, he thought sarcastically. There was so much at stake that he couldn't help feeling nervous, and that wasn't the best way to —

_I never feel you perform as well in your exams if you're not a bit nervous_ ...

He opened his eyes at the sudden memory. Hermione had told him that before his first match as Gryffindor keeper. Hermione always fretted about exams and always got top marks. He narrowed his eyes, a new determination forming in his mind. He was nervous, of course, because what was at stake was too important. Maybe it was not a good trait for a Master of Essence, but it was a human trait, and he relished the idea of still being human despite his power. He just had to concentrate like Hermione concentrated. He —

Instinctively, he teleported himself to avoid a streak of energy Sbalkal had sent towards him.

"Still there?" Sbalkal asked, staring at him. Sbalkal moved towards him at top speed, but Ron, acting instinctively again, raised his left arm to block his fist, and then grabbed his arm with his left hand. They stared into each other's eyes.

Instinct. Harry usually followed his instincts, and Lupin had said once that they were nearly always right. Ron had never had great confidence in his instincts, but now, Essence _was_ his instinct ... It was how it worked. Instinct would tell him what to do, how to move, and where to attack ... So far he had failed at this. Sbalkal had managed to keep him so worried, so afraid of failing to protect his loved ones that he hadn't been able to allow his instinct to tell the truth about what was happening, and to see what lay behind the kind face of the healer. His instincts had only kicked in when Sbalkal wasn't concealing himself and when he had wanted to be found, at that castle-like building and at that house in Hogsmeade...

But now he would try to concentrate. He would try to forget about his loved ones, focus on his instincts, and let them guide him.

And then he would use his mind and knowledge.

Sbalkal used his power to push him backwards, until Ron regained control and steadied himself. Immediately, he threw himself toward his enemy at top speed. Sbalkal moved quickly to dodge his blow, but Ron sensed this and changed the trajectory of his fist accordingly, hitting him on the face and breaking his nose. Sbalkal used his power to push him back, but Ron was quicker, and moved sideways, avoiding the shock wave. Then he used his power and knowledge to attack Sbalkal's affinity to his body, threatening the integrity of the entity formed by his body and soul.

For the first time, Sbalkal yelled in pain and anguish.

Ron felt him fight back, but Ron didn't relent and keep pushing. Sbalkal tried to push back, and Ron retaliated by sending a beam of energy straight through his heart. For a moment, Sbalkal's pressure diminished, but then Ron felt a new and powerful surge of energy around him, and the ground exploded. He jumped and rose up into the air, escaping the sudden flames that were devouring the area where they had been standing.

He wheeled around and moved in the air in time to avoid a ball of flames sent by Sbalkal, who had appeared just behind him. "You like to play, don't you?" he taunted. "Play then!"

Ron felt a new attack crush his body, but, having sensed it, he reinforced the electromagnetic forces that hold his molecules and body together, and was able to resist it. But almost immediately, he had to move to one side to dodge a little ball of energy that his opponent had sent his way. The ball flew past him and hit the water six miles away from the island. The explosion was terrible. An immense column of steam rose up in the air while a circle or forty-foot high waves washed over the island.

Sbalkal threw at him a second ball, but Ron dodged it again, and, as it destroyed one of the sides of the island, he made the oxygen around Sbalkal's body combust. Sbalkal extinguished it using his own power, and then sent a blow in Ron's direction. Once more following his instinct, Ron stopped it, and then attacked his enemy's entity once more.

_That's it!_ he thought. He was doing it. He was following his instinct the same way Harry did, and then was retaliating using his knowledge the same way Hermione would do. And, besides the power, he added his heart, his passion into the whole thing, as he had always done. It was, in a way, as if they were here with him, the three of them fighting together, like always.

Sbalkal let out a yell, and fell, disappearing with a splash under the water that still covered parts of the island and was now receding.

Ron knew where he was, though; the water was not a problem for him. He concentrated on it and it froze, locking Sbalkal inside a big block of ice, so cold that it was hard as steel. He landed on the top of a rock near it.

The block of ice began to melt.

It was time to finish this. Ron rose up into the air once more, getting away from the block of melting ice. Sbalkal's body was still trapped. Ron focused on the molecules of water around Sbalkal's body, and freed the atoms that constituted them, causing the energy of the bonds to be freed as well.

As the process began, Ron created a sphere around Sbalkal's body, similar to the one Sbalkal had used during the trial, and then attacked Sbalkal's entity once more.

The explosion was devastating. Its force rebounded against the inner walls of the sphere, and as a result, all its power was concentrated on its centre, where Sbalkal's body was, killing and destroying it.

That was the moment. Ron concentrated, and focused all his will into preventing Sbalkal from repairing his body, until his soul was forced to leave this part of the Universe.

Slowly, the body began to repair, as if it was going backwards in time.

Ron used all his power and all his will, and, for a moment, the repairing stopped.

But then, the _pressure_ countering him grew, and the body started to repair itself once more. Ron tried to use even more power, but he was already using all of it. And then, he felt a blow to his mind that almost forced him to stop. He recovered quickly but, when he tried to continue what he had been doing, he again felt life in the body.

"NO!" he yelled, and tried to use his power to crush it again, to destroy it once more, but, this time, Sbalkal was ready, and it was Ron who was blasted backwards, falling into a puddle of cold water. He reacted quickly and got to his feet, but, when he did, Sbalkal was again on his feet, still wounded, but very much alive.

"Well done," he said in an appreciative tone. "Well done, boy. You got better; I have to admit it. But still, it is not good enough."

Ron sent a ball of flames at him, but Sbalkal made it turn before it could reach him, and it ended up exploding a few dozens of yards away. Then Ron tried to burn the air surrounding him, but, again he was thwarted by Sbalkal's intervention.

"I told you; you can't defeat me," Sbalkal said. "But I have to say it was fun. I hadn't had a good rival since my battle against Ørsya. This cannot be compared to that, of course; both of us are much weaker. But still." He made a little pause before continuing. "It's time for you to meet your fate, though."

Sbalkal moved at incredible speed. Ron was able to stop the first blow, but couldn't avoid the impact of Sbalkal's left knee against his stomach. He bent over, trying to control the pain, but before he could, he was hit with astounding force on the top of his head.

With his skull broken, he fell hard onto the wet ground, and then Sbalkal kicked him very hard on his left side, sending him flying for twenty yards until he hit a rock and fell to the ground once more, horribly beaten.

"You caught me a bit by surprise, I must admit, but it's not enough; it will never be enough!"

Ron tried to stand up, but only to be crushed against the rock once more, which shattered by the force of the impact. Ron felt all his bones break. He concentrated on the stone under his enemy's feet. It melted and sneaked around Sbalkal legs and torso, trapping and constricting him, but Sbalkal destroyed the tentacle-like stone into millions of pieces, and then flew at great speed towards Ron. He lifted him in the air, and then kneed him in the stomach once more before beginning to hit his head hard. Ron tried to use his power to stop the attack, but it only worked partially. Finally, Sbalkal threw him away from him, his head almost reduced to a bloody mass. His body was still alive, but only due to the force of his will.

Taking advantage of the few moments Sbalkal seemed to have conceded him, Ron healed his body and stood on his feet once more.

"I want you to beg for me to kill you," Sbalkal declared, and then threw a violent and very powerful streak of lightning bolts against him. Ron used his power to stop them, but, in the end, Sbalkal was too powerful, and the streak hit him in the chest, instantly burning his clothes and his skin.

Even then, Ron tried to attack back, to target the bond between Sbalkal's body and soul, but this time he was prepared. It didn't work, and Ron was forced to stop when Sbalkal did the same to him, with such power that Ron was almost paralysed.

Ron tried to defend himself, and understood that he was powerful enough to do so — to prevent Sbalkal from destroying his entity. But he also realised that his enemy was right, that he was the most powerful of the two, and that Ron could never defeat him. And if they keep fighting, as Sbalkal's power grew faster than his, one day the difference in their power would be enough for the Master of Darkness to destroy him.

There was no hope.

_Please, _he thought, speaking to all Essence. He knew that Sbalkal would hear him, but he didn't care. _Please, if you're really on my side, help me._

The only response was Sbalkal's laugh.

"I told you," he said. "He is not on your side. Whoever he is, he is hiding. But don't worry. One day, I'll find him, and he'll go the same way as you."

Ron weighed his options. He knew he couldn't do what Ørsya had tried. He wasn't powerful enough. So what could he do to stop this being from extending his power across the entire Universe?

Across the entire Universe ...

A small bulb lit up in Ron's mind. Could that be it?

The only way he could stop him, was if he was able to prevent him from using his power against him. And to use the power, it was necessary to have a continuum of Essence. But Essence existed inside the rynxes. If he could break the continuum of rynxes ... But no one had never been able to curve the ten dimensions of space-time.

_There is no such thing as an empty rynx. The density of Essence can never be zero ..._

That brought up the memory of one of Pyret's investigations. Density of Essence could be manipulated. Could he destroy rynxes by setting its essence density to zero? And if he could, what would be the consequences? Would he be able to bend the dimensions, to change the geometry of space-time so the rynxes adjacent to the disappearing one would join the rynxes on the other side? This way Sbalkal would be locked inside a bubble where he could never reach the rest of the Universe And the only way to get out of it, would be to die, so he could go through the barrier. And that would mean the loss of his power ...

Or would anything else happen?

Based on Pyret's knowledge, Ron was almost sure that if he broke the rynxes, he could bend the dimensions, but the consequences could be unpredictable. What would happen to the geometry of _this _side of the Universe? Not even Pyret's memories had the answer to that.

Concentrating, Ron caused hundreds of stones to rise up in the air, and then made them fly straight at Sbalkal. He created some sort of invisible wall made of air around him, and the stones smashed against in, not reaching its objective. But, at the same time, Ron electrically charged the ground around his feet, and while the electrical charge grew, he pushed against his enemy's mind. This disestablished Sbalkal just for a fraction of a second, but it was enough. A dazzling, powerful lightning bolt descended from the clouds and hit the ground just beside Sbalkal, causing his clothes to burst into flames and his nervous system to go into overload. That wouldn't stop him for long, so Ron launched himself at him immediately, and began to hit him in the face, on his chest and everywhere he could reach.

Sbalkal began to retaliate soon, as Ron knew he would do. Ron tried to defend himself, knowing that it would be useless.

But this time, this was what he wanted.

With each blow that Sbalkal shot towards his face, blood spilled everywhere. But instead of concentrating on healing himself, Ron focused on keeping that blood part of his entity ... and molecules of this blood were all around them, floating in the air ...

Tired of this, Sbalkal threw Ron away from him with a sudden surge of energy, and Ron fell hard onto his back, his body wounded and horribly disfigured.

"You like being used as a punching bag, don't you?" Sbalkal laughed.

Ron healed his face before looking at Sbalkal.

"Yes," he retorted, and then did something he had not tried during the battle, the attack on Sbalkal's mind that Pyret's brain had used to keep him away from the Department of Mysteries. It was true that Sbalkal was much more powerful now since his soul was complete, but Ron was much more powerful than the brain, too. He knew that this wouldn't stop Sbalkal, but Ron hoped it would render him harmless while he prepared his trap.

Sbalkal closed his eyes, and let out a yell of pain and anguish.

"You son of a bitch, not this!"

And while he focused partially on the attack, Ron willed his floating molecules of blood to form an invisible but real layer all around his enemy. This blood was part of himself, of his entity, and Sbalkal didn't have as much power over them as Ron had.

Ron concentrated like he hadn't done ever before, and then took the Essence constituting the blood, its related energy and the space between it into his body, diminishing the density of Essence in the rynxes.

Blood was not a soul. He couldn't diminish the density past a certain point on this side of the barrier. At some point, he felt that the required power was too much. He gritted his teeth and tried even harder. He didn't want to just diminish the density even more ... he wanted to set it to zero.

At some point, he felt Sbalkal realise that something odd was happening; he felt Sbalkal countering him, but that was _his _matter and energy, his Essence, part of him. But, to do what he intended, that had to change. So, at the same time, he stopped the vibration of the Essence, annulled its affinity, and set its density to zero.

Just in a few rynxes.

The effect was immediate.

The geometry of the surrounding area began to change, so there wasn't a rynx that wasn't surrounded by others.

Space-time became unstable, and Ron felt the pain of what he was doing in his own soul. It was like stabbing reality itself. However, he didn't stop. From that point, Ron extended what he had done, causing more and more rynxes to disappear all around Sbalkal, and forced space-time to bend.

The world began to spin. Time seemed to do strange things. The ground cracked and rocks began to fly in different directions, as if gravity had gone mad.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" yelled Sbalkal. The sound came to Ron horribly distorted and repeated thousands of times. Where Sbalkal was, the space-time was closing over itself, the now border rynxes on one side joining the border rynxes of the other side. Ron saw Sbalkal's body stretch and spin, his own form changing accordingly to the space he was in.

Outside that area, though, the space-time was mending itself, and, as Ron destroyed more and more rynxes, limiting the connection between Sbalkal's zone and the rest of the Universe to a closing gate placed between them, he sensed that, from the perspective of someone looking from behind Sbalkal, the zone where Sbalkal was did no longer exist. From Ron's perspective, it was impossible to see the rest of the island behind Sbalkal's body. _Because there was nothing there_. The geometry of that little zone was like the surface of a sphere, so, if you looked further, you saw the same things over and over. It looked like an endless space full of an infinity of distorted Sbalkals.

Ron felt his pain grow, but didn't stop. He pushed and pushed. He had to close the gate. All around him, lightning bolts were striking the ground and areas of earth were dissolving, while others were suffering strange chemical reactions. The forces of nature were being affected. The instability was growing, and if he didn't stop soon, who knew what would be the consequences?

So he pushed, and pushed. The gate was now only half a metre in diameter. Around the _edges_, strange things he barely got to understand were happening. He was so close ...

And then it came.

A blow, directly into his soul, stronger than any he had felt before. For a moment, he felt all the weight of Sbalkal's terrible power crush him from all sides, and he couldn't avoid it; he stopped controlling the destruction of rynxes.

The space-time around him seemed to go completely mad. And as the molecules of his own body started to do odd things to adapt to the new conditions and structure of that area of the space-time they were in, he felt himself being pulled towards Sbalkal. He felt the gate increase in size as Sbalkal's shaky hands grabbed him and threw him in that spinning space-time bubble.

And Sbalkal got out.

Ron felt the area become more and more unstable, and tried to control it. The pain he felt was terrible. He was at the limit of his strength. However, he tried to focus, to let the gate open slowly. He had failed in his attempt to lock Sbalkal inside. But if he let the distortion he had caused to get out of control, the space-time would rearrange itself in a devastating way.

Where he had been standing — more or less, space was so strange from his position that he wasn't sure of anything — Sbalkal was crouching down, his clothes destroyed, his body disfigured. Slowly, he stood up and turned round to face him. Then he was back on his knees and, _at the same time_, he was standing up again. Time was also going mad.

"Did you_DidyouDidyou _really be—_reallyDidreyou—_lieve_lievebelieveieve_ that youyouyou_reallybelieve_ could_Didyouthathatlieve_ defeaaaat_lievethatyoufeatcoulddefeat_ me_featcoulddefeatme_?" Sbalkal's voice, strange and distorted came to him multiple times.

_I told you I knew how this ended, _Sbalkal said directly into his mind. _You should have listened to me. Good attempt, though._

Ron tried to move, to get out the area where he was trapped while controlling the instability he himself had created.

_I can't let you do that_, Sbalkal told him. And then Ron felt it once more, a crushing blow into his own soul. His resolve, his resistance, crumbled, and he lost his grip on the surrounding space-time.

He let out a terrible yell, feeling how the re-arrangement of space-time geometry destroyed his body. He stopped seeing and hearing. Everything was filled by what seemed a very intense white light ...

_Hermione, Rose, Harry ... I'm sorry. I failed._

And that was his last thought before space-time collapsed into itself, taking him with it.

— — o — —

Sbalkal felt very weak. What Ron had attempted had almost destroyed him. He sensed, more than saw, how Ron lost his hold on the instability after his attack. The entire island was shaking. He knew he had to get away, but he knew that he wouldn't be able to. Even if he were able to teleport himself, space-time was so unstable around him that he didn't know where he could end, or in what state.

So he concentrated all his power in keeping himself, as an entity, together, and got prepared for what was about to happen.

The last bit of Ron's resistance crumbled, and all around him, space seemed to spin, faster and faster.

The bubble Ron had attempted to create collapsed into itself, taking his creator with it and destroying him.

And then, everything exploded.

Sbalkal was sent backwards at incredibly speed, but only for a fraction of a second, because his body was almost immediately disintegrated, just like the island and everything in a radius of about eight miles.

Sbalkal felt all his connection to the Universe disappear. The only thing that existed were the Essence of his body, still attached to his soul by their affinity. He knew he had to be quick; he was in terrible danger, but willed himself to wait a bit, to let things calm down. And when he felt he could do it, he began to reconstruct his body.

Thanks to his preparation, the matter that constituted it was close. Slowly, he began binding his atoms into molecules, his molecules into cells, his cells into organs. And finally, he felt the boiling water surrounding him, and then the hot air when he took his head out of the water. He was too weak, though. He would need some time to recover. It wouldn't take long, but even that could be too much, because he knew that he was about to be attacked, now that he couldn't fight. So, before finishing healing his body, he contacted his men, gathered in the mansion, where he had ordered them to be before heading for The Burrow. And when he knew they were listening to him, he gave them a simple order.

_Kill them all._

— — o — —

Hermione was leaning against the window frame, Rose asleep in her arms, while she watched Harry. He was sitting on the couch, his arms on his knees, his head hung low. He looked defeated. Ginny was at his side, a comforting arm resting across his shoulders. Sitting in another chair was Neville, who also looked completely depressed.

They had recounted the story of the attack, and, though it had terrified Hermione, she hadn't really been surprised. She suspected it wouldn't work, though she had to admit she didn't expect such failure. What kind of being was Sbalkal?

The family had started to discuss the convenience of leaving the country. It was true that they were under a Fidelius Charm, but that would be like being in prison. However, the idea had been discarded, or at least postponed. What point did it have to move abroad, if Sbalkal was going to subjugate the world?

She looked out of the window. The sun was already lowering. Another day was gone, and still no news from Ron ...

And then was when she felt it. A slight tremor, like a weak earthquake, accompanied by what could only be described as an _undulation_ of the world and a shiver down her spine that made her clutch Rose more tightly against her chest.

"What was that?" asked Mrs Weasley, coming out of the kitchen.

"It seemed like an earthquake," commented Hermione's father.

But it had been more than that. Hermione didn't know how she knew, but she did. Something terrible had happened.

"It was more than that," said Bill, walking into the house, with Victoire's left hand clutched in his right one. For a moment, it was as if I were seeing through very hot air."

"I didn't perceive anything," said George.

"I saw it, too," interjected Hermione. Everyone looked at her. "I —" She hesitated for a moment. "I think something bad has happened."

Harry fixed his green eyes on hers. "I've got that feeling, too," he said. "Something terrible has happened."

"Let's turn on the wireless," suggested Mr Weasley, pointing his wand at it.

"... just a weak tremor, listeners, so no need to worry," a man was saying. "It seems it was slightly stronger in the north of the islands, but still — weak. So we continue with our interesting debate about the upcoming meeting of the Muggle UN. Our leader has —" The wireless fell silent. Upon hearing the word 'leader,' Harry had pointed his wand at it and turned it off.

"We don't need more propaganda," he said as an explanation.

"'Arry, you've got to cheer up," said Fleur. "You did what you could. You all could be dead, but you're are all right."

"Cheer up?" said Harry, glaring at Fleur. "Ginny will be giving birth in a few days, Fleur! And I can't take her to a bloody hospital! What reasons have I got to cheer up?" Fleur gaped at him.

"She's just trying to help, so don't yell at her," said Bill, frowning at Harry.

"Let's calm down, shall we?" interjected Mr Weasley in a conciliatory voice. "We're all nervous. It's been a difficult day."

"Yes, stop rowing and come have dinner!" called Mrs Weasley from the kitchen.

Hermione started to walk towards the cot they had installed in the living room, so that she could have dinner without having to carry Rose. She had reached it when a sudden, bright light lit up the house, which shook violently. A moment later, all the windows shattered, sending pieces of glass everywhere. Hermione crouched down, screaming and shielding Rose's body with hers. She heard the characteristic noise of people Apparating, then several screams. She raised her head, and saw spells flying everywhere. One of them hit George in the face, and he crumbled to the floor. Harry was fighting some of the figures that had Apparated, along with Neville and Percy. Hermione retrieved her wand, but, before she could do anything, Neville fell to the floor, and someone yelled, "DROP YOUR WANDS!"

The fight stopped. Half of the inhabitants of The Burrow were on the floor, unconscious or wounded, and all around, Sbalkal's men were aiming at them with their wands. She was terrified, but also bewildered. They were protected by the _Fidelius_ Charm, among others! It was impossible for anyone to break into the house! Impossible! And yet, here they were.

"Look what we have here," continued Dolohov, the one who had spoken before. He looked ecstatic. The other ex-Death Eaters were smirking, too. "How long we've waited for this day," he said. "To have the great Harry Potter, his Mudblood best friend and the Weasleys at our mercy! How many times have we dreamed of this, during all those years in Azkaban! And we have Longbottom here, too!" he added, kicking the unconscious Neville in the ribs.

"Leave him alone!" Hannah yelled. She was pale and scared.

"Shut up, bitch! You'll join him soon," spat McNair.

Through the door, that was hanging off his hinges, a new figure entered. Hermione heard Harry roar with fury when he saw it was Sean Wilson.

"You!" Harry yelled.

Hermione almost expected Wilson to smirk, but he was completely serious.

"I knew that one day you'd regret not playing by the rules, Potter."

"AND THIS IS PLAYING BY THE RULES!?" Harry shouted. "ATTACKING A HOUSE FULL OF CHILDREN?"

"You're rebels," he replied, though he seemed a bit uncomfortable. "You're arrested. The children will be fine. Now drop your wands." He turned his head to look backwards, to another two wizards that seemed to be Aurors, though Hermione didn't recognise them. "Take their wands."

"Arrested?" Dolohov said with a sneer.

"Yes, arrested," said Wilson, though looked dubious. "When you called, you told me we had to be ready for an assault —"

"And the assault is done," Dolohov retorted, interrupting him. "We have a clear order, and it is to kill them all," he said, looking at Harry hungrily.

"WHAT!?" Wilson said, surprised and — it seemed — horrified. "But — there are children and —"

"The order was to kill them all," repeated Dolohov. "And I am anxious to start."

"No, this cannot be," Wilson protested, though he looked frightened. "That's — that's not right and —"

"_Avada Kedavra!_" Dolohov shouted, pointing his wand at him. There was a beam of green light, and Sean Wilson dropped to the floor, dead.

The other Aurors raised their wands, but they were outnumbered, and with two flashes of green light, they fell, too.

Victoire started to cry, and Bill put her behind his back. Almost immediately, they heard the cry of another child, followed by the sound of someone climbing down the stairs. It was Alecto Carrow, who was carrying a frightened James.

"NO!" shrieked Ginny.

"JAMES!" added Harry. He started to move towards Alecto, but Amycus pointed his wand at him, and he stopped, his fists clenched tightly.

Alecto Carrow smirked. "I owe you one, Potter. And I have the intention to pay you in full."

"Later," said Dolohov. He focused his eyes on Hermione. "Let's start with the M— with Ms Granger. Or rather, with her brat."

"NO!" Hermione shouted, and embraced Rose more tightly. Harry tried to move forward again, but was immediately hit by the _Cruciatus _Curse, and fell to the floor, moaning in pain.

Hermione felt a sudden pain in her arms that made her open them. And a moment later, she heard Dolohov shout, '_Accio!_' and Rose flew out of her hands and into his.

"NO! NO!" she shrieked, desperate and terrified. She got up and ran towards him, not caring about anything else except to get her daughter and to protect her from this man, but was hit with a curse that made her bend over and fall to the floor, sputtering and coughing.

"No —" cough, "no, p-please ..."

Dolohov pointed his wand at Rose's innocent face.

"Please ..." she added, crying. "Take me, do whatever you want with me, but please, please, don't hurt her ..."

"You'll be with her soon," said Dolohov. Green light burst off the wand's tip, and when it hit the baby, what remained of Hermione's heart shattered completely.

**END OF PART II**


	27. A Tale of Now and Then

_Well, here it is chapter 27, sooner than expected. You must thank __**Kathy**__, because due to her efforts as my beta you've got this chapter sooner, but of course, the delay before the next chapter will be longer. I won't say when I'll publish it because I don't know._

_I won't bore you more. You're dying to know what happens, so go ahead!_

* * *

**PART III**

**TALES OF ETERNAL FIGHTS**

_**Chapter 27**_

**A Tale of Now and Then**

* * *

"ROOOOOOOSE!" she shrieked at the top of her lungs. Her heart and soul were dead, so why was her body still alive? Why was she still in that world that had turned into hell, instead of joining her dead daughter in the afterlife? She closed her eyes, the green glow of the Killing Curse still alive in her retinas, when she heard Dolohov's shocked voice.

"What the —?"

She opened her eyes again, and despite not wanting to, she looked. To her surprise, the green light of the spell was still visible, now forming a ball barely an inch above Rose's face. And Hermione's heart began to beat again when she realised that the little girl had started to cry, proving that she was still breathing and alive.

"ROSE!"

"What's happening?" asked Arnold Cottage, his eyes fixed on the green ball of light. "What —?"

"_I _happened," a voice interrupted him. Everyone turned their heads to look at the staircase, where a cloaked man with a hood covering his entire head had appeared out of thin air.

Immediately, Sbalkal's men pointed their wands at the stranger, but he didn't seem to mind. He was, it seemed, staring directly at Dolohov.

"How dare you try to kill an innocent child?" the man asked, the anger in his voice not completely masked.

"I —" Dolohov stammered. "Who are you?"

"Your master is not the only one with extraordinary powers," the man stated. The next moment, the green ball of magic rose up in the air, and then hit Dolohov squarely on the face, just between his eyes. He let out a horrible scream, and then crumbled, releasing his hold on Rose. Hermione yelled again, but before anyone had the time to do anything, the cloaked stranger had reached her and caught her in his arms. The little girl began to cry even harder, frightened. He cradled her in his arms with great care, and the child seemed to calm down. Around him, everyone, friend or foe, was watching him, mesmerised.

Cottage, however, pulled himself together and threw a Killing Curse at the stranger. But instead of touching him, it dissolved in the air. The stranger didn't seem to mind that he had tried to kill him, and turned to face Alecto Carrow. "Release the child," he ordered. Alecto just gaped at him, as if paralysed, and then did as told. James fell from his arms, but, instead of hitting the floor, he just floated in the air and moved swiftly towards Harry and Ginny, who caught him and pressed him against them, both with tears in their eyes and relief on their faces.

"Oh, James!" Ginny sobbed.

For a moment, everyone else stood still, and then, as if on cue, all Sbalkal's servants turned round and tried to flee. Some tried to Disapparate, but they fell to the floor, yelling in pain. The rest just ran off. The stranger stood there, just observing, for a few seconds, and then said softly, "You're going nowhere."

The air was suddenly filled with yells and screams, followed by the sound of bodies falling to the floor. And then silence.

Bill threw a fearful glance at the stranger, and then looked out of the window closer to him.

"Are — are they ... dead?" he asked.

"Unconscious," the man said. "I don't kill." Then he became still for a second, and Hermione saw him clench the fist of the hand he wasn't using to hold Rose. He sighed.

"It's too late."

"Too — too late?" Harry dared to ask. "Too late ... for what?"

"He escaped," the stranger said. "He knew," he added, a trace of bitter realisation in his voice. "He knew all along, and I never realised ... I've been such a fool."

"What — what are you talking about?" Harry asked. "Or are you going to leave again without answers?"

At the word 'leave,' Hermione let out a squeal. This man had saved Rose and her twice — no, thrice — and had told her to protect her daughter. And now he had her. What if he wanted her for something, and took her with him?

"Rose," she said, getting to her feet, not bothering to hide the fear in her voice. "Please, give me my daughter back. _Please_."

The man looked at her.

"In a moment," he said. "I'm not going to take her anywhere. There's no need for leaving anymore," he added, looking at Harry. "There's no need for more secrecy. It never has been. He always knew."

"Who?" Harry asked.

"Please," Hermione begged again, getting closer to him. Despite the man's assurance, she wouldn't calm down until she could touch her daughter and check that she was all right.

"Get up," the man said, and all those who had fallen because of the Attackers' spells opened their eyes and got up, a bit confused.

"What —?" asked Neville, looking all around.

"Neville!" Hannah yelled, throwing her arms round his neck. "Are you all right? Injured?"

"No, I —"

"They're all fine," the man said.

"Who are you?" George asked, blinking a few times. "What's happened? Why are they all on the floor?"

"Whom were you talking about?" Harry asked.

"Sbalkal, of course," the man answered. "While I saved you, he recovered and escaped."

"Recovered —?"

"He knew, all along. He played with me ..."

"Knew what?"

"Who I am."

Hermione really wanted to know who this man was, but that desire paled in comparison to how much she wanted her daughter in her arms. She needed to feel her breathing, to see her blue eyes sparkling with life ... she needed to hold her, and not let her go ever again.

"Please, can — can you give me my daughter?"

"Yes," he said, looking down at the child. "It's just that I've waited, for so long, for the opportunity to hold her in my arms."

"To — to hold her?" Hermione repeated, her heart beating faster. What did he mean?

The man looked directly at her. "To hold her, yeah. To hold my daughter. _Our daughter_, Hermione."

"W-What? What did you say?" she asked, completely bewildered.

"I've waited so long to be able to hold our daughter, Hermione." As he spoke, his voice seemed to change, and when he uttered her name, that voice was no longer just a familiar voice, but one she knew too well. And the hood covering his head seemed to turn into smoke, and vanished, revealing that red hair she so loved, that long nose, that freckled face, and those blue eyes in which she had got lost so many times.

There in front of her, looking the same and yet different, was Ron, her best friend, her husband, and the father of her child; that child that seemed to be so comfortable in his father's arms —

"R-Ron?" she heard Mrs Weasley mutter in incredulity.

"_Ron?_" Harry asked, completely shocked.

Hermione got a bit closer, barely noticing the surprised gasps and shocked faces of her family, not daring to blink. "R-Ron? Is — is it you? Really you?"

He nodded.

"It's me. It's me, Hermione. And it's been so long ..." he said. "I've waited so long to hold her," he said, looking down at Rose once more. "And you," he added, looking up. "I've missed you so much, Hermione. So much."

Hermione didn't know how she felt. There were so many emotions running inside her that she thought she was going to explode. There, in front of her, was Ron with Rose in his arms, the very image of which her dreams were made.

"_You are the Cloaked Man?"_ she asked, and he nodded.

"Was — was it always you? At home, when those men attacked me?"

"Yes."

"And at the meeting, it was you again?"

"Yeah."

She raised her right arm.

And then slapped him as strongly as she could.

"YOU BASTARD!" Hermione yelled, beside herself. "SIX MONTHS, RON! SIX MONTHS SINCE YOU LEFT ME IN THAT ROOM! SIX MONTHS IN WHICH I DIDN'T KNOW WHETHER YOU WERE DEAD OR ALIVE! I HAD TO GIVE BIRTH WITHOUT YOU! And then you appear there and all you tell me is 'Ron is all right!?' HOW DARE YOU!? HOW DARED YOU MAKE ME GO THROUGH T-THIS? What kind of sick g-game were you playing, Ron? ANSWER ME!" she screamed. But before he could answer, she turned round and closed her eyes, feeling her sobs take control of her body. "Six m-months ... six months ... no news ... you could be dead for all w-we knew."

"I'm sorry, Hermione," she heard him say, his voice full of sadness. "You've got no idea how I wish things were different. Do you think it was easy for me? If you think those six months were hard —"

Hermione rounded on him, fury taking over her mind once more. "DON'T YOU DARE!" she screamed, pointing an accusing finger at him. "Don't you dare tell me, _again_, how hard it was for _you_! It was you who left without any explanation! You did it once, Ron! And you promised!" Her voice broke and then added, much more softly, "You p-promised you w-wouldn't leave me again. _You promised_."

"I know," Ron answered. "But I also promised I'd do anything to protect you and Rose. And that's what I did. I couldn't keep both promises, Hermione. I had to choose."

"Wait a moment," interjected Harry, raising one hand. "This — this makes no sense." Hermione opened her eyes, wiped away her tears and looked at him. He was frowning at Ron. "Ron was with me when Hermione was attacked. How could you be with her? And what the hell have you done here? These powers —"

"The Ron that was with you that day, Harry, was my past self," Ron explained, turning his head to look at Harry, who furrowed his brow, not understanding. But Ron didn't bother to explain, and instead fixed his eyes on Hermione once more. "Do you think six months is hard?" he asked her again. "Try then twenty-four years, Hermione. Twenty-four years without you — without any of you."

"W-What?" Hermione asked, completely shocked. "What are you talking about?"

"You asked Dumbledore about me. He told you he met me twenty-four years ago." He turned his head to look at Harry. "The very same night your parents died, in fact."

"WHAT!?" Harry asked.

Ron lowered his gaze to look at Rose, and a smile appeared on his face. And though it was filled with sadness, Hermione couldn't deny that that was Ron's smile, which she so loved.

"That's when I landed. I tried to stop Sbalkal. I fought him, but he won. He beat me. And when the trap I had created to hold him forever broke, I was destroyed, and thrown across space and time ... And I landed twenty-four years in the past."

"_You tried to stop Sbalkal_?" Harry asked in disbelief.

Ron touched his daughter's face, smiling, and then gave her to Hermione, who took her back, avoiding any contact with Ron. The moment she had her in her arms, she exhaled a breath she didn't know had been holding, and embraced her, pressing her against her chest. "Oh, Rosie ... Rosie ... I was so scared! I thought I had lost you."

"So — so it is really you, Ron?" Mrs Weasley asked. She seemed to be in shock.

"Yeah, Mum. It's me."

She let out a loud sob, and then threw herself at his arms, crying. "Oh, Ron. Oh, my son ... my son ..."

"It's okay, Mum," he said, patting her on her back. "I'm alright. I'm — I'm back home."

"Ron, we need an explanation," Harry said. "What you're saying ... sorry, but it — it makes no sense. I mean, _twenty-four years?_"

Ron nodded, and then broke free of his mother embrace. But instead of talking, he moved towards where Sean Wilson's body lay.

"I never liked you, but didn't want you dead. Sorry I couldn't come sooner."

And then, suddenly, all the bodies inside the house vanished. Hermione opened her mouth in astonishment. There was a new round of gasps of surprise.

"What —? _Did you do that?_" Harry asked.

"Yeah."

"Were have they gone?"

"I sent them outside, with the others. They won't wake up in a while. I just didn't like them here." Then, he made a gesture with his hand, and everything that had been destroyed in the fight against Sbalkal's men repaired itself in a second.

Everyone stared at him in awe, but Ron didn't seem to notice it. He leaned against a wall, and then began to talk.

And for she didn't know how long, Hermione just listened, hearing about something called 'Essence,' which was the prime substance of the Universe. She heard of a group of people called the Masters of Essence, who were born with the power to manipulate it, and therefore, everything that existed in the Universe. She heard of someone called Pyret, who had built the archway Sbalkal had stolen. She heard of Sbalkal himself, of his story, of how he had been born in the sixth century, of how he had turned to evil, of how he had created Dementors and of how he killed another Master of Essence called Hi-Shu before being defeated by a woman named Ørsya and a man named Anwar. She heard of how Sbalkal had been maimed, but not killed, and of the plan he had set in motion to recover his lost piece of soul. Ron talked and talked, telling them how Sbalkal had been the one to guide Voldemort and to show him about Horcruxes, and how everything they had done had helped Sbalkal, as he became stronger every time a Horcrux was destroyed.

Then he stopped talking, as if sensing that they needed some time to process what they were hearing, and a heavy silence filled the room.

"So that's it?" asked Harry after a while. "That's — that's why he told me I had helped him, eight years ago?"

"Yeah," nodded Ron. "He could have done it himself, but he had put a mark on his soul even before he was born, to be able to trap his soul here. And I learned, during all these years, that because of that, he wouldn't get as much power if he was the one to kill Voldemort. He needed someone else to do it ... or for him to die naturally."

"This — this is too much," said Ginny, shaking her head. "It feels as — as if everything we know, everything we went through was ... a deceit. A lie. Or a game."

"I know," Ron said. "I felt like that the first time Anwar told me."

"But —" began to say Hermione, speaking at last. "I — I don't understand. How did you get involved in this? For what you say, it's obvious you're one of them now. A —" She swallowed. "A Master of Essence."

"You're right. I am one of them. That's how I stopped Dolohov's Killing Curse before it could affect Rose." Ron remained silent for a moment, and then began to talk once more. "You see, this story is a circle, it doesn't have a beginning ... so let's start when we went into the Department of Mysteries. There was a brain there ..."

And Ron told them how Pyret's brain had been, for several centuries, protecting the Archway from Sbalkal. How it had detected the strange potential in Ron, and how it had managed to attack him and put part of itself inside him. He explained how, during the next ten years, it had used its knowledge to use Ron's latent powers, making them grow in a way Ron would never have been able by himself; he explained how that had awakened his instincts, which had made him feel that the Ministry must be better protected.

"It was those instincts which Sbalkal feared," Ron said. "I couldn't stop him, but he feared that, if I felt him, I could delay him. He recruited that army, those men, to do with them what he had done to Voldemort, to take their souls, because the power he had taken from Voldemort was not enough. He needed them as corrupted as possible. That weakens souls, and would allow him to dominate them, as his own soul was in some way corrupted by all the evil things he had done. That's why they committed those crimes - all those murders. They thought they were fighting Muggles and Muggleborns, but they were just turning as evil as possible. And when all of them were corrupted enough, Sbalkal called them, and killed them in that house. Of course, having been the one who had done it, he took much less power from them than from Voldemort, but as there were a lot of them, it was enough."

"So it was he," Neville commented.

"Yes. That's why he looked so ill when we found him. Dominating seventeen souls at the same time is not easy. He could do it thanks to his power, increased after having previously devoured Voldemort's soul. But it took days for him to recover. That's why he didn't do anything the first time we brought him to the Ministry, or the next day when we interrogated him. He looked better, but was not ready. However, if my instincts had not told me I should put him in Azkaban, he would have escaped before. Though maybe then less people would have died." He sighed. "Anyway, once in Azkaban he decided to wait 'til the trial, because otherwise he would have to escape from the prison and enter the Ministry breaking the protections. By bringing him there, we made things easier for him."

"That's not your fault, Ron," Harry said. "No one knew that."

"I should have known," Ron replied, and it was then that Hermione understood the immense weight of the regret Ron carried. "He was right, Sbalkal was, when he told me I'd have all the answers if my mind was in the right state. But it wasn't, because he had made sure of it."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"He played with us all along," continued Ron. "He knew we had put that charm upon Hogsmeade. He didn't use magic to kill his servants. But once he had done it, he set the charm off. He wanted us to take him to the Ministry, so he wouldn't have to overcome the magical protection by himself. He could have done it, of course, but that would have consumed part of his power. He needed to be in the Ministry to take the brain and the Archway. And though the power of the Archway can't be destroyed by magical or Muggle means, he wasn't sure of what I was capable, and of how Pyret's brain had affected me, and feared that, in a way, I could know what he wanted ... and destroy it." He looked at Hermione. "He was never interested in Rose, not really. Oh, he was a bit curious about her, but the only thing he really wanted was to keep me worried, and to keep me so preoccupied about you I couldn't think straight. That's why he stole the file, why he sent the letter, and why he ordered his servants to take Percy." Ron looked at his brother, who had gasped and was now staring at him open-mouthed. "They wanted you. He knew I would go after you. If you hadn't had that Hippogriff Watcher, he would have let us find you another way. He wanted me to find him. His true plan was not to kidnap you; it was to kill Julie in front of me, because he knew how that would break my self-confidence. And he succeeded."

"Oh, oh, Ron ..." Hermione moaned.

"I was focused only on protecting you," Ron continued, his eyes fixed on hers. "Those dreams in which I was you and I died, were my power and my instincts telling me what I only understood recently ... that if I didn't become a Master of Essence, I wouldn't be able to save you, I wouldn't be there when you needed me.

"And meanwhile, he carried out his plan. And when he stole the Archway and destroyed the brain, what remained of Pyret's conscience took possession of me, that day, at the hospital. And while Sbalkal was too weak, healing his soul, Pyret made you fall asleep and took me to a place far away, where Anwar lived in hiding. He took me there so I could understand and be trained." He made a pause. "I wanted to come back, Hermione," Ron said, tears now streaming down his face. "I wanted to tell you the truth, where I was, and what was happening. But I couldn't ... I couldn't because if he had found me or our hidden place, he would have killed us. And so I had to remain there, hidden, learning how to use my powers; I learned to watch, to see distant things, and to understand.

"I watched you, Hermione, so many times. I was watching you the day Rosie was born. You — you cannot understand how much I wanted to be there, with you."

Hermione noticed that her face was soaked in tears, too.

"I had to watch from far away. But I could feel you, and feel Rose — and yet couldn't be with you the way I desired.

"And today — though for me it was so long ago — I felt that Harry was going to put his plan into action. I knew that the Elder Wand wouldn't be of use against Sbalkal." He looked at Harry. "It was me who saved you through Aldus Humpton. But then Sbalkal decided it had been enough. He couldn't trace me, and I think he had decided I might be becoming too powerful. So he came here, and lifted the Fidelius Charm and the other protective enchantments."

"He — he came here?" asked Mr Weasley.

"That's why they could enter the house," Hermione realised.

"Yes," Ron said, nodding. "I couldn't let him kill you, so Anwar sacrificed himself to give me what remained of his power, and I came after him. I took him to an island near the North Pole, and we fought."

"You fought," Hermione repeated.

Ron nodded. "But I was fooled again. I thought I'd be able to defeat him with my power and Pyret's knowledge, but I failed. He was too powerful. Desperate, I tried to create a dimensional prison for Sbalkal, but he was able to thwart my plan and turn it against me. And when I lost control of that trap, my body was destroyed, space-time went mad, and I was thrown back in time twenty-four years." He let out a mirthless laugh. "And he knew! He knew I was me! That's why he kept saying he knew how the battle was going to end ... He had put all the pieces together."

"So you — you've been living here twenty-four years? In hiding?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Ron said. "I know what you're thinking, Harry, and no. It is not possible to travel to the future. And before you ask why I didn't stop this from happening, it is not possible to change the past, either, as you very well know.

"You cannot imagine how I felt. When first I regained consciousness, I could feel nothing but pain. I didn't remember who I was, or what I had done. Everything was pain. I felt disjointed, lost. Then, I don't know how long after, as time had no meaning, I woke up, in one of those hidden places. I guessed it was my deepest instincts, using Pyret's memories, that had brought me there. I stayed there, not being able to move, for I don't know how many hours, while my memories came back to me painfully. And finally, I remembered who I was and what had happened, and slowly, but steadily, I began to recover my powers. It was then that I was able to find out where and when I was." He let out a sad chuckle. "You can imagine my shock. I was trapped in the past, and knew that I couldn't come back, and that I would have to wait for those twenty-four years to go by...

"How many times did I curse the cloaked man for not having saved Julie, Hermione?" Ron asked. "How many times I cursed him, while I was being trained, for not helping us? And it was me all along.

"At first, when I realised what had happened, I wanted nothing but to scream, to yell, for how unfair my situation was. But as hours passed, I realised that that would achieve nothing, so I decided to pull myself together, to regain control, and to act as a Master of Essence. Despite how horrible my situation was, I had to play it to my advantage."

Ron fell silent for a moment, and looked down, and then up, at Harry.

"When I recovered enough to be able to teleport myself, I came here. Sbalkal was then much less powerful, and I knew he wouldn't be able to trace me. I came to Godric's Hollow, hours after your parents had died. I'm sorry, Harry. I wasn't strong enough when they died, so I wasn't able to save them."

"But you say you can't change the past, did you?" Harry asked. "So you knew you wouldn't be able to."

"I knew I wasn't going to save them. What I didn't know was _why_."

"So you — you were there? You saw t — them?"

"No," answered Ron. "Their bodies had already been taken out of the house. But it was there where I met Dumbledore. However, I was wearing my cloak and hood. If I was going to use my accidental time-travelling against him, I couldn't allow Sbalkal to discover my identity. That's why I concealed myself, why I didn't tell anybody, and why I even changed my voice. But it all was for nothing, because he discovered me. I don't know how, but he did.

"When I went back to my hidden place, I decided that I'd use my time to train and to strengthen my powers. I knew I wasn't going to attack Sbalkal. And I knew because if I defeated him — and by then, I could have done it — then I wouldn't be back in time to defeat him. And that is not possible. I still didn't understand, though, why I hadn't saved Julie, or helped more. And it wasn't until I looked for the first time to us three, who by then were just children, that I started to understand." Ron made a small pause, and fixed his eyes on Hermione. "I was able to see you, Hermione. To perceive you. It was heartbreaking, I have to admit, seeing you when you were so little ..."

Hermione tore her eyes away, blushing. She didn't know how she felt, knowing Ron had been able to see her as a child while she was unaware of being watched. It was, at the same time, endearing and scary.

"But when I tried to look at me ... something odd happened. I could see me, but not clearly; it was as if I were ... veiled. But how could that be? My two-year-old self didn't know how to conceal himself! Didn't even have the power to do so! So why couldn't I see me or my thoughts? I didn't get it then.

"Years passed, and though I was training, mainly using meditation, and using the time to understand more and more of Pyret's knowledge, I realised that my power wasn't growing as it should. I knew that my potential as a Master of Essence was good, but even so, my powers grew very slowly. Why? Had the time-travelling affected me? I felt fine, but it was the only explanation that made sense."

"During those years, I kept an eye on all of you. I saw us three grow, and that night of Halloween I decided to leave my hidden place and see the scene with my eyes. I decided to teleport myself to the grounds. I had planned to wander around for a bit before and after the troll incident. I didn't want Sbalkal to think I felt something for you. I wanted him to think that my only interest was Harry, for his role in the fight against Voldemort. But the moment I appeared there ... I felt as if I was suddenly ill."

"Ill?" Bill asked, confused. "Didn't you say Masters of Essence don't get ill?"

"It was not a physical illness. I felt ... weak. It was as if something was sucking off my power. At first, I thought of Sbalkal, so I teleported myself to another distant place, in case he came. And then I started to feel better. And that's when I understood: I couldn't be close to my old me."

"Why not?" Hermione asked.

"You must understand that the vibration that defines our power is very special and unique. I'm almost sure that, if Masters of Essence didn't die, it would stop developing new people with similar potential. But in my case, there was another person with my potential, with the same vibration, even the same soul! And that, which is not a problem for normal people, is for us! He had been born before I appeared, so he had got the power first. Being near him debilitated me. And that's was why I couldn't see him clearly, or why my power grew so slowly. _His _power was growing, too! My presence there was helping him increase a power he didn't know he had! My presence was causing his power — which was much greater than usual, but still low for a Master of Essence's standards — to grow. In short, my presence would allow, one day, for him to be noticed by Pyret's brain."

"Wait, wait!" Harry said, raising one hand, his face showing the confusion he felt. "Are you saying that you got those powers because you went to the past after you got those powers?"

"In a way, yes," said Ron. "Just like you were able to cast a Patronus because you had seen yourself doing it, only that's a bit more complicated. Causality is not always as straightforward as we believe. Don't worry if you don't understand it; it took me some time, too.

"And that's how I knew why I wouldn't help you directly. Of course, that's only one of the reasons. Everything we lived together made us what we are now."

Nobody said anything.

"Months later, when we tried to stop Voldemort from getting the Philosopher's Stone, I met Dumbledore for the second time. I knew that he would come to save Harry, and yet I could see him flying to London. So I looked into the future and knew that Dumbledore wouldn't realise that he needed to go back. But I _knew_ he was going to go back. He had to, because I couldn't help you! So I met him and told him what was happening."

"You did?" Harry asked, shocked.

"Yes. I could have stopped Voldemort before that, you know ... but I didn't want Sbalkal's intervention, and besides, as I said, that adventure helped us become the people we are! I knew what we were going to face. We had to be ready. And every time something happened, every time we defied evil, we got stronger. What we endured made us the people we are now. Made us best friends."

"Anyway, after that I only came back to the castle once more, the night we helped Sirius escape. I told Dumbledore to watch how you cast the Patronus, and told him Sirius was innocent. That's why he knew what to tell you, and that you would use the time-turner to go back in time. That night was easier because I came just after my other self lost his conscience.

"And when I was attacked by the brain, and Pyret started to make my powers grow, the effect of our closeness increased. That's why I couldn't save Julie, because she was in the same room as me. There was no way I could go there, or Sbalkal could have killed us both."

"But you helped me," Hermione said.

"You were alone," Ron said. "I think Anwar, and the other Masters of Essence, would have disapproved. They would have said that I was letting my feelings for a single person put in jeopardy thousands of others. But I couldn't let you die, Hermione. I simply couldn't. And you can't even imagine what it was, for me, to be near you again, after so many years, knowing I couldn't tell you who I was."

For a few seconds, they held each other's gaze. Then, Ron looked away and started to talk once more.

"When Sbalkal escaped, and I was taken to that hidden place, I put myself in some sort of light slumber, so my other self could use all the power. However, when Sbalkal decided to attack the meeting of the ICW, I knew I couldn't let him kill you. So that time, I used my knowledge to get all the power. That rendered my other self almost powerless, something I didn't understand at the time and that gave me a great fright. It took me a bit to be able to get my strength back, but when I did I went there to face Sbalkal, as you know. I didn't have all my power, though, so I knew I wouldn't be strong enough to defeat him, but I only wanted to save you. And you were so sad, Hermione, that I couldn't help but tell you I was okay."

"You could have said something else," Hermione reproached bitterly. "You knew how worried I — all of us — were."

"I didn't know what else to say. And I feared that if I said too much, Sbalkal would realise who I was." He sighed deeply. "Anyway, and to finish the story, when my old self went to fight Sbalkal, I let him control almost all the power, but got ready to take control once what was going to happen happened. I knew that Sbalkal was going to be hurt, so my plan was to attack him while he was still weak and defeat him once and for all. But what happened to my old me affected me as well. And when I finally was ready, I realised that he had sent his servants here, this time to kill you all. I had to choose between destroying him or saving you. And I chose selfishly," Ron said, looking down. "I simply couldn't let you die, and Sbalkal escaped."

"You say you chose selfishly?" George asked.

"Yes," Harry said, his eyes fixed on Ron. "He chose thinking about himself — about what was important to him — instead of what was better for the world."

Ron nodded.

"He knew what to do. I guess he feared that I would attack the moment my other me was sent away. But he knows me. He knew my weakness, and used it. Despicable and detestable as he is, I can't deny he's intelligent. Very intelligent." He looked up at them all.

"And that's it. Now you know everything."

There were a few moments of silence, and then Mr Weasley moved forward, and stared at him for a few seconds.

"I am so proud of you," he said at last.

"Dad —" said Ron.

You're so different now. Wiser and a bit sadder, I think. And I can't even imagine what you had to endure, all those years alone. I don't understand completely what you are now, but you're still my son. I love you, and I'm infinitely grateful that you're back, and all right." And then he embraced Ron, who returned the hug.

"Thank you, Dad. I missed you too. All of you. Seeing you, even feeling you, is not the same as being with you."

When Mr Weasley released him, it was Ginny who embraced her brother.

"I missed you so much!" she told him.

"Me too," he said, smiling at her. He put a hand over her large belly. "You're going to give birth to a wonderful and healthy boy."

Ginny smiled back. "You — you can check if he's all right?"

"I can, and he is," said Ron. Then he looked at Harry. "He's got your mother's eyes."

"He — he has?" Harry stammered, taken aback.

Ron nodded, and then his smile vanished. "I understand you're confused, and even a bit afraid of me."

"We're not afraid," Harry said quickly. "It's just — this is too much, Ron. I look at you and I see my best mate, but I also see much more. And — and well, you're what? Fifty years old, now?"

"Yeah," nodded Ron, and Hermione gasped. She hadn't thought about that. "Not that age matters much to us."

Hermione stared at him. She didn't know how she felt. She was relieved, of course, that he was all right. And she was ashamed for having slapped him, after hearing what he had to endure, even though she was sure she had not hurt him, at least physically. But, was it possible for them to go back to being husband and wife? Was that what Ron wanted? How much had Ron changed in all those years he had spent alone? And then she had to accept that her husband was now an immortal being, someone that would never age, and who possessed powers she could barely understand.

And besides, there was the fact that, while she was worried sick for him, carrying their child, giving birth and then taking care of their daughter, he had been watching her, knowing what she did and how she felt. And though part of her was glad for that, as he had taken care of her and Rose, another part of her felt uneasy about it. It felt like stalking. Could she be with a person to whom she could never hide a secret or a thought? Could a relationship work when there was such a difference between the people forming it?

"And — and what are you going to do now?" Bill asked Ron.

Ron looked at his brother.

"First, we've got to regain control of the Ministry. I've got to take care of the Muggle world, too."

"The — the Muggle world?" Hermione's father asked, speaking for the first time. "What do you mean?"

"First Azkaban, and now, what happened in the island where I fought Sbalkal. They think it was another atomic bomb, even more powerful than the other. I've got to take care of that."

"How are you going to do that?" Neville asked. "Do you need help?"

"I'll make those who know forget about it. It won't be difficult, though it'll take me time. And then ... then I've got to find a way to kill Sbalkal."

"And afterwards?" Ginny asked.

Ron let out a sad chuckle. "You say it as if it was already done. If I don't succeed —"

"But if you do?"

Ron didn't say anything, but looked directly at Hermione's eyes. She felt warm all of a sudden, and, though if felt strange after so many months, it was a familiar feeling. But what wasn't familiar, or even welcome, was the sensation of being uncomfortable under his gaze, as if he could see through her — _which he can do_, she reminded herself. She looked down, at the peacefully sleeping Rose, and moved towards the stairs.

"I — I'm sorry," she said, though not looking at him. "For s-slapping you, I mean."

"Don't worry. I ... I understand, Hermione. It's okay."

The sound of her name on his lips was too much.

"I — I'm going to feed Rose and — and put her on her cot," she said, and ran up the stairs. She reached her bedroom and closed the door behind her, locking it with the most powerful locking spells she knew. She sat down on the bed when the first tears began to spill from her eyes, and looked at her daughter.

"What am I going to do, Rosie? What am I going to do?"

She had wished Ron's return for so long, but, now that he was back, she didn't know what she wanted anymore.

* * *

_So no, I didn't kill anyone. Congratulations to those of you who guessed that Ron was the Cloaked Man, even if later you thought he couldn't be._

_But of course, you didn't think things were going to be easy for Ron and Hermione, did you? Ron has spent a lot of time alone, has grown and has endured changes Hermione hasn't started to understand yet._

_If you are confused about the whole time-travelling thing, don't hesitate and ask me. I'll explain._

_See you next week._


	28. After Twenty-Four Years

_Well, I'm back. Sorry for the long delay. I'm well and alive, but I had a little 'accident' with my right thumb that involved the door of my car, and using a computer has been rather difficult, so publishing hasn't been on my mind. That is, also, the reason why I didn't reply to the reviews this time. Sorry for that._

_As always, thanks to __**Kathy**__and here it is the chapter._

* * *

**PART III**

**TALES OF ETERNAL FIGHTS**

_**Chapter 28**_

**After Twenty-four Years**

* * *

No one said anything for a few moments. Then, Hermione's mother moved towards the stairs, but was stopped by Ron, who put a hand on her right shoulder.

"No," he told her. "She's closed the door magically."

Harry watched them, not knowing how he felt. Ron was back, and was not just Ron, his best friend, but someone different, older, infinitely wiser and more powerful.

"She's hurt," Hermione's mother said. "She hasn't been the same since —"

"— Since I left, I know," Ron finished for her. "I'm sorry. It's my fault."

"No!" Ginny yelled. "Ron, what choice did you have? And I'm sure Hermione knows that. I suppose she's — she's just —"

"Overwhelmed," finished Harry. Because that was how he felt, too.

"I didn't say I had hurt her intentionally. But I'm the reason she's suffering."

"She's strong," Hermione's father said, his eyes fixed on Ron. "I'm glad you're all right, Ron. You know we consider you a son. I'm sorry for what you had to endure. But at least I know that what Hermione suffered during these months was for a good reason."

Ron nodded.

Silence.

"You — you said we were going to regain control of the Ministry," Harry said a bit awkwardly, after a while. "But — what about Sbalkal? Will he allow it?"

"He doesn't care," Ron said.

"What!?" Harry asked. "But —"

"His top priority is recovering completely and killing me," explained Ron. "He doesn't mind that we regain control of the Ministry for a while. If he kills me, he'll have everything. In fact, I'm a bit surprised he's put so much effort in taking over the world," he added.

"So you've got to fight him _again_?" Mrs Weasley asked, terrified.

"Yes."

"Do you have to do it alone? Can't anyone help you?"

Ron shook his head. "Magic is useless against him now. We are the last Masters of Essence, and if I don't kill him, nobody will."

"Oh, Ron ...!"

"It's okay, Mum," he said, and smiled at her. "I've accepted it. I'm older and readier, than Harry was when he went into the forest to face death. And I don't intend to die," he added quickly, before his mother could say anything. He looked at Harry, and grinned. And despite the sadness in it, it was Ron's grin, and Harry realised how much he had missed it. "We're doomed to be heroes, eh?" he said in a joking tone. But there was no true humour in his words, and both knew it.

"We are," Harry said back. Ron was so different that his familiar attempt to lower tension with jokes was more than welcomed. He returned the smile, but, almost immediately, an idea struck him, and he turned serious once more. "Ron, you helped us in the war. But why? I mean, killing Voldemort was just making Sbalkal stronger."

"He would have been defeated eventually," said Ron. "He had to be destroyed. He was a murderer and a tyrant. If you think about it, it was a bloody good plan. Defeating Voldemort would mean giving Sbalkal power, but letting him be would mean a madman ruling the world."

Harry nodded. "Yes, you're right."

"He's not really dead, you know," Ron added.

"WHAT!?" everyone asked at the same time.

"What — what do you mean?" Harry asked.

"Only his body is dead. Technically he isn't. And neither are the Attackers."

"But — didn't you say —?" Harry asked.

"Their souls are still here, bound to Sbalkal, as if he was a Horcrux for them. But instead of attached to one piece, he dominates the entire part of their souls that determine our abilities and let us interact with our bodies and the rest of the Universe, what we call _sôhr_. The cores of their souls, that make them be who they are, are somewhat free, but for them that is worse than death, without control of their _sôhr_, they're forever trapped in half-existence, until Sbalkal himself dies."

"But that's — that's 'orrible!" Fleur exclaimed.

"It is," Ron said. "Though not undeserved." He looked at Harry. "Can you come with me? Outside?" he asked.

"Er — yeah," Harry said, nodding.

"We'll be back in a minute," Ron said, and he walked out. After a moment, Harry followed him.

When he got out of the house, it took him a few seconds to locate Ron, dressed as he was in black clothes, as night had almost fallen. He was staring at Sbalkal's men, who were lying on the ground, in three rows, forming a rectangle, still unconscious. Near them, there were three bodies, covered by white sheets that stood out in the darkness.

"They — they won't wake up?" Harry asked, feeling strange and not knowing what to say.

"Not for now, but anyway, it doesn't matter. They can't move."

"Oh. That's good."

Ron moved a bit, until he was in front of the three sheet-covered bodies.

"Wilson is dead, too. Another Auror," he commented sadly.

"I know," Harry said. "But he looked for it, associating himself with Sbalkal and his men."

"I know. I never liked him, you know. I hated him, but I don't anymore. He was wrong about many things, but still he was a person, who had dreams and hopes. He loved people, and there are people who loved him and will be desolated when they know he's dead."

Harry didn't know what to say.

"Everyone has to die, but no one should die this way."

"Yeah," said Harry, not knowing what to add to that. Ron turned round and looked at him, and for a few seconds they just stared at each other. And then Ron let out a mirthless chuckle. Harry frowned, not understanding.

"This feels strange, doesn't it?" Ron asked.

Harry sighed.

"I'm sorry, Ron," he said. "I —" he shook his head. "I suppose this is not how you imagined coming back. Certainly, it wasn't how I imagined you coming back."

"The truth is that this is, except for Sbalkal's men's presence, how I expected it would be, more or less. Besides, being a Master of Essence implies that there are fewer surprises."

Harry stared at him. "Do you mean you can predict the future? You know what I'll say?"

"Predict ... in a way," said Ron. "Some things are easier to predict than others. Human behaviour is the most difficult. In the end everything in the Universe can be affected by everything else, so the only way to make exact predictions is by knowing the state of the _whole_ Universe, which I don't. But I know what I am, how shocked I was when I discovered all this, even though part of me was prepared to know about it. I know how you feel."

"Yeah ..." said Harry, feeling uncomfortable, and the feeling grew when he realised Ron _knew_ that he felt uncomfortable. "About that ... you can read my thoughts. I don't even need to answer."

"I can," said Ron. "But I try not to. I can't avoid it completely, though. In a way, it's like hearing. You can avoid listening, or not pay attention, but you still hear. I don't know what you're thinking right now, but I know you feel a bit awkward and uncomfortable."

"Sorry, Ron — it's —"

"I know. I didn't like the idea of Anwar knowing everything I felt. But that's what we are. I suppose I understand why they hid and lived alone. Though of course, I learned during these years that we are never alone. I feel so connected to everything, Harry ... I feel so ... alive. I'm old, and yet I feel so young. In a way, even younger than before. There are so many things to see and to learn out there ..."

Harry didn't say anything.

"When he told me about me being immortal, the idea scared me," Ron confessed, looking away. "Thinking of you all dying while I kept living ... I thought I could resist it. But now, now I think I _couldn't_ resist it. It would hurt, but my will to live is so strong now ... That doesn't mean I wouldn't die without a second thought to save and protect you," he added, turning to face Harry once more.

"I — I don't know what to say," confessed Harry.

"Never mind," Ron said. "I brought you out here because I wanted to thank you, Harry."

"Thank me?" Harry asked, astounded. "What for?"

"For being there for Hermione in the most important moment of her life, when Rose was born. For taking care of her. For being by her side."

"Ron, Hermione is my family. You don't have to thank me."

"I know, but I still want to do it. She and Rose are the most important things in my life. Even now," he said, his voice filled with sadness.

"Ron, she —" he gulped. "She loves you. It's just — this is so sudden, and too shocking. I suppose none of us knows how to react."

"I know she loves me. I've changed, though. And I can't ask her to share her life with someone who can always know what she wants or what she feels. It wouldn't be fair. Everyone deserves a bit of privacy."

"What — what are you trying to say? That you're going to — _to break up with her?_" Harry asked.

"Are we still a couple?" Ron said. "It's been six months for her, and twenty-four years for me. I don't know what we are." He sighed. "Know what? Sbalkal told me that my love for her was selfish. I didn't like to hear it, but he was right. But I'm willing to be selfless now, Harry. I want her to be happy, and I don't know if I can make her happy anymore. Whatever she wants, I'll accept it."

Harry stared at him, open-mouthed. He wanted to ask Ron if he still loved her, and what he _did _want, but couldn't utter the words. The idea of Ron and Hermione breaking up had never crossed his mind after they had gotten together. They were made for each other. Them breaking up was not possible ... and yet neither was the idea of an immortal and almost almighty Ron, and here he was.

Ron must have noticed how taken aback Harry was, because he grinned at him as if everything were okay.

"By the way, congratulations on your promotion, even if it wasn't in the best of circumstances."

It took a few seconds for Harry to be able to speak. "No, it wasn't in the best of circumstances. I suppose you know what Sbalkal did to Blevelty and his daughter, don't you?"

Ron clenched his jaw and nodded.

"Yeah. He was a good man. I can't blame him. I let Sbalkal escape to save you, knowing that it could mean the death of many people in the future."

"I saw his wife and daughter, once, after the destruction of Azkaban." Harry shook his head. "They —"

"I know," Ron said, interrupting him. "I feel it all the time."

They both fell silent for a while. Then Harry looked his old friend in the eye. "It wasn't the same without you, Ron. A year ago, the office felt a bit like home, but not anymore. Without Julie, Terry, you and the others ... now it's a strange place. Or was, while I still worked there. I've missed you, Ron. I — I know things are a bit tense, but we want you here, with us. Whatever you have become, you're still my best mate."

They stared at each other for a few seconds, and then, Harry didn't know how, they were embracing.

"I know," Ron said. "I've missed you, too."

They broke apart. Ron looked at the house, and Harry's eyes followed his gaze. Ginny was at the door, looking at them.

"Now that the initial shock of my return has faded, they're probably going to thank me for what I did to Sbalkal's men," Ron commented.

"As they should," Harry said. "And I want to thank you, too. You saved my son, Ron."

"I did. But it was because of me that they attacked you."

"How many times did your family get in trouble because of me?" Harry replied. "And still your mother thanked me when I saw your father being attacked by Nagini."

Ron stared at him. "I know." He let out a small chuckle and shook his head, and Harry stared at him, confused. "It's true. _I know that_. But hearing you say it is completely different. I am a Master of Essence. Your words shouldn't affect me, but they do. And I am glad for it."

Harry put a hand on Ron's shoulder.

"You stood by my side when I faced my enemy, Ron. And I'll be by yours when you face your own. It doesn't matter that I can't do anything. You'll know I am there, supporting you. It made all the difference to me knowing that you all were with me, eight years ago."

"Thanks, Harry." He looked at the house again. "Let's get back inside," he suggested.

When they walked in, Ron made his way towards Audrey, who was sitting next to Percy, her daughter in her arms. He crouched down in front of them.

"Hey, little Molly," he said, touching the baby's nose. The baby wrapped her tiny fingers around his large one, and he smiled. "I'm pleased to finally meet you."

"Finally?" repeated Percy, not understanding.

"Even though I couldn't be there physically, I wasn't going to miss the birth or my second niece," Ron said.

"Ron ..." Audrey muttered. He looked up at her. "Thank you," she said. "For saving us. And our children."

"You don't have to thank me."

"But we want to," Percy said. "Thank you, Ron."

Ron just nodded, and fixed his eyes on Molly once more.

"Ron," Percy added after a few seconds, adopting a business-like tone Harry knew too well. "What should we do now? I mean, with the prisoners. And then there are those Aurors. Their families must be informed."

"Yes," said Ron, and stood up. "The prisoners can be left there for the time being. They won't go anywhere. Harry, Neville, Percy, you can fetch the others and go to the Ministry to regain control. You can take one or two of them to show people they're defeated."

"Why can't we take them all to Hornwall?" asked Mr Weasley. "You know, that castle in Wales we established as prison when —"

"I know," interrupted Ron." But that's not their place. That prison is not secure enough. I'll rebuild Azkaban."

"WHAT!?" Bill asked. "Rebuild Azkaban? But Ron, the island is almost destroyed, and the fortress was too big. That could take months, or years."

"I can do it," said Ron. "The destruction of the fortress was just a physical process and can easily be reverted. It'll take time and power, but it's not difficult. Even the bodies of the prisoners and the guards will be — well, repaired. This way at least their families will be able to bury them properly. I can't bring them back to life."

"Okay," accepted Harry. He was as amazed as everyone else, but didn't want Ron to feel uncomfortable with questions that would emphasise his new nature.

"But Harry, no one will be at the Ministry. It's too late," pointed out Ginny.

"We can talk to as many people as we can," said Harry. "And tomorrow we'll be there first thing in the morning."

"Good," Ron said.

"Are you coming with us?" Harry asked Ron. "Everyone will be ecstatic to see you, and will give them confidence."

"No," said Ron.

"What are you going to do, then?" Mr Weasley asked. "Wait here? Go to Azkaban?"

"I've got to take care of the Muggles, make them forget about the explosion that sent me to the past before things get out of control."

"Do you need help with that?" Angelina asked. "To put Memory Charms on them?"

"No, I can do it quicker on my own," said Ron. "But thanks."

"We should go to the _Prophet_, too," added Ginny. "People should know what happened."

"Yes, that too," said Ron.

"Okay," said Harry, content. Things were moving again, and finally they could do something to stop Sbalkal. "Neville, can you contact people at Grimmauld Place?"

"Yes."

"Let's go, then!" He headed for the door, but, before walking out, he threw a glance at Ron.

_I'm really glad you're back, mate._

— — o — —

Hermione was lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, though not seeing. The room was in complete darkness. She had breastfed Rose and then put her in her cot, and now the little child was making little noises, half-awake, half-asleep. Hermione, however, barely heard her. Her mind was far, far away. For over an hour, she had been replaying her life before Hogwarts and at the school. She thought about the life she had shared with Ron, a life she didn't know if she would get back.

She loved Ron. Of course she did. She had loved him even before knowing what being in love meant. Her love life was basically Ron. Oh, she had had crushes, yes, before and after meeting him. When she was eleven, the year before going to Hogwarts, she had been completely infatuated with a cute guy from a TV show whose name she no longer remembered. She even had got a poster of him from a magazine, something she had always considered as childish and ridiculous. And so, her pride had stopped her from sharing that crush with other girls that felt the same. Childish or not, that had been the only thing that had made her think she was ... well, _normal_. She had been a regular girl with a crush and not just a bossy know-it-all with no friends and around whom strange things tend to happen.

But then the school year had ended, and Minerva McGonagall had come home one day, and had explained everything. And, the cute guy forgotten, she had dedicated all her time to learn magic, and then had gone to Hogwarts, hoping that, at last, she would be _normal_, as the other children in that school were like her.

She had been dead wrong.

Magical children were as childish as Muggle children. They liked to do different things, but in the end it was the same. Again, she had been known as the bossy know-it-all with no friends.

Until Harry and Ron. Ron was probably the most childish boy of their year, and the one who could infuriate her like no else. Oh, Harry infuriated her, too. At first he had seemed to be the most polite and kind of the two, even a bit shy, but he had proven he was almost as much an idiot as Ron, especially with his stupid rivalry with Draco Malfoy. However, what he said didn't affect her as much as Ron did. She didn't understand why Ron got under her skin so easily. Oh, she had met other boys like him, lazy idiots who called her names whenever she tried to help them with school things, or correct them when they were wrong. With time, she had concluded that they didn't like to be shown how stupid they were and had learned to ignore them. But what Ron said affected her much more, and she didn't know why. Maybe because he had been the first wizard — after McGonagall — who had used — or tried to use — magic in front of her?

But when the troll incident happened, she found that Ron was, in, fact, _different_ from those lazy idiots she had met in the past. On one hand, he and Harry had risked their lives to save hers, so, even if just a little, they cared for her. And on the other hand, he had managed to save her with the spell she had taught him how to use. Even if he had got angry at her, he had actually _listened_ to her.

And though she hadn't realised at the time, that night had been the first proof of the fact that Ron wasn't only the one who could make her cry more easily than anyone else, but the one who could put a smile back on her face more easily than anyone.

However, during those first years, she had never, for a single moment, thought that she could have a crush on Ron. She had had a crush on the TV show guy. She developed an equally stupid crush on Lockhart the next year. Those two things were completely different to what she felt for Ron.

For starters, she had developed her crushes almost at first sight. And she had to admit, a bit ashamed, that had had a lot to do with the fact that both were very handsome. However, with Ron it had been a gradual thing. She didn't know when she had fallen in love with him. The first time she had realised that there was something there, had been when McGonagall had announced the Yule Ball. The question 'Whom do I want to go with?' had popped into her mind, and the answer had been almost instantaneous.

Ron.

At first, she had been a bit surprised. But then she had realised that she really had a lot of fun with Ron. Their first visit to Hogsmeade had been one of the best days of her life, and she had found out, after their awful row, that she wasn't happy if Ron was not in her life, making stupid jokes and driving her mad.

However, she had not given the fact a lot of thought. Ron was, after all, one of her best friends. The fact that she didn't like at all that he seemed to drool every time that shallow Fleur Delacour, though she knew Fleur differently now, was within sight meant nothing.

However, when he had said that he wanted to take to the ball the prettiest girl that would have him had hurt her much more than she had expected. But why? Ron was, after all, a fourteen-year-old boy ... And she had had to admit to herself that she was hurt because she wasn't pretty, or girly, and that Ron only saw her as his best friend that happened to be female, and not the way she wanted him to see her, the way she saw him —

That had been the first time the idea that she might fancy Ron had crossed her mind. So yeah, okay, maybe she liked him, and surely she wanted him to take her to the ball, but that wasn't going to happen, so she'd better move on.

And then Viktor had asked her, leaving her completely shocked. Viktor Krum, the famous Quidditch player, pursed by half the girls in Hogwarts, wanted to take her, Hermione Granger, the bossy know-it-all, to the ball.

And she had accepted, still taken aback as she had realised that Viktor really saw her as beautiful. She had to admit that he was chivalrous and charming, so she had let him give her her first kiss, even if she knew, deep down, that this was going nowhere. She had tried for a bit even though they had never really dated, and though she enjoyed his company, he was not Ron. And during the second task of the Triwizard Tournament, she had found herself more interested in the wellbeing of Harry and Ron than in Viktor, though it certainly was flattering that she was the thing he would miss the most. And Viktor had even invited her to his house, in Bulgaria, but Hermione could barely pay attention to him, because Fleur Delacour had kissed Ron, _her Ron_, who looked as if he had earned a million galleons, and she was struggling hard to contain her anger and jealousy. That was when she had finally realised that whatever she had with Viktor was definitely a dead end. She fancied Ron.

She fancied Ron too much.

And then Lavender came, and the dance at the wedding, and them holding hands before falling asleep at Grimmauld Place, and him saving her from Bellatrix's hands, and, finally, the kiss during the final battle. Through it all, Hermione had never known when she had fallen in love. Simply, at one point, she had realised every time she thought about her future and about a family, Ron was there; every time she got aroused, Ron was on her mind; and every time Ron smiled at her, she felt utterly happy.

She felt a pang of heartache remembering the years after the war, thinking of how incredibly happy they had been, and how that had been stolen from them. Ron had had to make a terrible choice, and she no longer knew what to think of him.

Merlin, _Ron was immortal!_ Every time she thought about it, she felt lightheaded. She loved Ron, yes, but _this_ Ron? She loved the Ron who had disappeared six months ago, but for _this _Ron, that had happened twenty-four years ago. He had lived twenty-four years, alone ...

Thinking about that made her want to scream.

Did this Ron still love her? Could someone with his powers, abilities and knowledge love a human woman? And even if he did, could he be happy with a normal life, like the one they had shared before all this? And even if he could, could she live with him? They knew each other perfectly, and there were no secrets between them. But both of them, like every person, had their private thoughts and their private moments. And that was not possible anymore. She could, no longer, conceal any thought from Ron, and that idea was too scary.

She felt tears pricking her eyes. First Harry, the Chosen One against Voldemort. And now Ron, the Chosen One against Sbalkal. What was the problem with the Universe? Didn't they deserve a happy and normal life? Hadn't they done enough?

The noise of someone knocking at the door startled her.

"I want to be alone!" she shouted.

"I know, but I want to talk to you," Ron said from the other side.

Hermione felt suddenly anxious. She had not expected Ron. It was too soon. What would she say? She still felt too confused!

"Hermione, please, open the door," Ron said.

She hesitated for a moment, and then turned on the lights and lifted the spells. A moment later, the door opened and Ron stepped in.

"You could have easily lifted the spells," commented Hermione a bit awkwardly. Just as the words had left her mouth, she regretted them. She didn't want to sound as if she was jealous of Ron's power. She had always prided herself on her spellcasting, and the fact that now Ron could easily overcome any spell she could cast wasn't easy to accept, but she wasn't jealous of that.

"I could," Ron confirmed. "But I wouldn't do that if you didn't want to see me. I don't like invading people's privacy, Hermione. I try to avoid it as much as I can."

"I wasn't accusing you —" she stated, a bit too defensively.

"I know you weren't," he interrupted her. "But it is natural for you to feel that way. I don't know what you're thinking right now, but it is true that I could if I wanted, and you wouldn't know I'm doing it."

"I think I'd be happy if you didn't tell me that," she said.

"I know, but I want to be completely honest with you," he replied. He sighed. "I do know how you feel, though. It is impossible for me not to notice that. You feel awkward and afraid, and you shouldn't worry about that. It's normal."

"Sorry," she said. "I didn't want to sound so defensive. It's just — I'm _really_ glad you're here, Ron. I don't want you to think I'm not. I was so scared for you, so worried. But these past months were like hell for me. And I know I have to deal with the fact that my husband is twenty-four years older and immortal."

"I know. And I understand; you don't have to apologise."

"I'm very sorry for slapping you, Ron," she apologised again. "It's the last thing you deserved, after everything you had to endure."

"Don't worry about that. You didn't hurt me," he said, his eyes fixed on Rose's cot. He moved slowly towards it and looked down at Rose. He smiled, and she couldn't help a rush of love towards them both. "Can I hold her?" he asked.

"What?" Hermione asked, taken aback by the question. "Ron, you — you needn't ask. She's your daughter as well."

Ron bent over and took the girl in his arms. She looked up at him, and then smiled. Ron's grin widened.

"It's as if she could recognise you," Hermione said, enthralled by the image of father and daughter. She got closer to them.

"In a way, she can," Ron said. "She's part of me, and of you as well. We created her, Hermione. Together."

Hermione stared at Ron. "I know."

"I don't mean biologically," Ron added, and Hermione felt weird hearing Ron utter such a word. "Well, that too. But I was referring to her soul. We created it, Hermione. You see, on the other side of the veil, on the other side of Dimension Zero, there's a great amount of Essence — Essence in its simplest state of vibration, such that it does nothing. And when Rose was conceived, our souls took part of that Essence, and brought it here. And when it crossed the barrier, our souls transformed it into another one. And so our souls are always linked to hers, as part of what we are is in her, too."

"Oh," said Hermione. "That sounds so ... right. Magical," she finished.

"It is more than magical," said Ron. "And it is true. We don't know how it works, though. It's an incredible process, the creation of a soul. Souls are the most wonderful things that can be made with Essence," he explained, his eyes fixed on Rose.

Hermione stared at them for a few seconds.

"You don't know how many times I've dreamed of seeing you with her," she confessed.

"You don't know how much I feared I would never get the opportunity to hold her."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, surprised.

"I knew that, to come back, I'd have to fight Sbalkal first and win. That seemed unlikely to me. And it turned out I was right, unfortunately."

"Ron, I'm so sorry for that. I can't even imagine what you endured ... and then, those twenty-four years alone ..."

"Hermione ..." Ron said.

"It's t-true," she said, and realised she was crying. "Merlin, Ron ... We were equals, weren't we? We complemented e-each other. We had known each other for more than half our lives, had endured the same ordeals, and survived the same dangers. But not anymore. You've spent more time away from me than with me. You're on a — a whole new different level now," she finished, her voice weak, and turned round to wipe out her tears. She heard Ron putting Rose back in the cot.

"I know," Ron said. "Hermione ... do you still love me?"

Her sobs stopped abruptly. She stood still for a few moments, facing away from him.

"Why do you ask questions whose answers you already know?"

"I don't like reading other people's minds, Hermione, I've told you."

"But you can feel it, can't you?"

Hermione took his silence as a 'yes.' She turned round and faced him.

"Of course I love you," she said. "Or maybe it is the idea I've got of you, I don't know. But when I see you now, I feel love. But I also feel awkward. I feel I've got to control my thoughts, Ron, and that's an idea I don't like," she answered honestly.

"I understand."

She dared to look him in the eyes, those blue eyes she loved.

"And you? Do —" she swallowed audibly, "do you still love me? After all these years?"

Ron looked away, and Hermione felt a pang in her heart.

"When I was with Anwar, he told me I should forget about our marriage and our relationship, because it was over. That either we would die at Sbalkal's hands, or, if I became a Master of Essence and won, I'd fall out of love with you." Hermione just stared at him, unable to say anything, because her body was no longer responding to her. Ron let out a sad chuckle. "I got so furious! I told him that I would never, ever stop loving you. He replied that time would prove him right. That when my power grew and I understood what I was, I would no longer be able to be in love with normal people. That one day, I'd discover that, even if I cared for you, I wouldn't be in love with you."

Hermione swallowed the painful lump that had formed in her throat, and forced herself to look at him.

"He was right, wasn't he?" she told him, willing herself not to cry. "You've got those powers, that knowledge. You live forever and I'm — I'm just a mortal witch. Someone insignificant."

"Insignificant?" Ron repeated, frowning. "_Insignificant?_ I left my haven, my hidden place for the first time after Sbalkal increased his powers using Voldemort's soul to save you, Hermione. I risked everything to protect you." He moved a bit closer to her. "Do you remember the night before the trial? When we made love for the last time?"

She nodded. "I do."

"And what did I tell you, Hermione?" he asked.

"That you loved me."

"Yes. And that I wanted you. Always," he added. "Always, Hermione."

"Always," she repeated.

"Always," he said. "And that hasn't changed."

Hermione opened her eyes.

"It — it hasn't?"

"All those years I spent there, I wasn't really alone. During my training, I thought so many times of Anwar, all those years trapped there. But we are never alone. We are so connected to everything ... And I felt connected to you, to Harry, and to my family. I watched us grow up; saw us acting like idiots, Hermione, wasting so much time. I wanted to scream, and to smack myself on the head for being an idiot, for not making the most of the time with you, for wasting it, when the only thing I craved was a second in your presence."

"Ron ..."

"Maybe Anwar was right. Maybe we can't love normal people. But you, Hermione, were never normal. You always were extraordinary to me. You still are. Maybe your knowledge can't impress me now. But I can see your soul. A beautiful, kind and caring soul. You're so strong, and yet vulnerable; so intelligent, and yet afraid of failure; so beautiful ... Maybe it is that I never should have become a Master of Essence, or that I became one too late, or that I was already in love with you when I gained my power... But I haven't, for a single minute, stopped loving you," he said vehemently.

And she couldn't resist it anymore. Before she had realised it, she had flung herself at him and was hugging him as tightly as possible, her face pressed against his chest.

"Ron, Ron, Ron. M-Merlin, Ron, I — I've m-m-missed y-you," she sobbed. "So much. So bloody much."

She felt him put his arms around her. "I know. I know, Hermione. And I've missed you too. Every single minute of every single day."

And then she looked up at him, and he down at her. They locked their gazes for an eternal second, and an instant later they were kissing, passionately, hungrily, desperately ...

Hermione felt something indescribable swell in her chest, an electric current go through her entire body and soul. For a moment, she forgot about everything, about how things were different, about how love might not be enough, and she just focused on the feel of Ron's lips against hers.

Finally, they pulled apart, and she put her head against his chest and remained there, between his arms. Things were not sorted out. There still were so many things that made her feel uneasy, but, for now, she relished in his proximity, in his warm body pressed against hers, and in his arms around her body.

"You're thinner," she commented after a while, and he laughed.

"Yeah, well ... I haven't eaten in twenty-four years."

"You haven't?" Hermione said, moving her head and looking up at his face.

"We don't need to eat, remember?"

"You love food!"

"I suppose that, when you don't need it, it loses its appeal," said Ron, shrugging. "_That _was something Anwar was right about."

"Oh," she said, feeling sad all of a sudden. It was true that she _hated_, sometimes, the way he stuffed himself, as if food was going to be forbidden next day. He had improved his manners, yes, but never completely. But now, the idea that he wouldn't do that anymore wasn't enticing. In fact, it felt utterly wrong. 'The most curious thing about the person you're in love with is that you even miss the things you hate of them,' her mother had told her once. And it seemed to be completely true.

She broke apart from him.

"Ron ..." she started to say.

"You need time," he affirmed.

"I —"

"Hermione, you don't need to apologise or explain. I understand. I've changed. And I can do things that you're not comfortable with. Hell, if you could read my mind, I _surely_ would be uncomfortable around you! I love you. And I want you to be happy. We cannot get back together and pretend that nothing has happened. It's not what I want, either. The life we were living ... I don't know if I can live like that again. The way I feel now ... We need to figure this out," he finished.

She looked at him. She didn't know if he really felt that way or was just saying it to make her feel better. The thought was a bit unsettling but, anyway, she felt grateful to him.

"What if — if we can't be happy being apart ... but I'm not comfortable being together? Or if you feel that our life together isn't enough for you anymore?"

"I don't know," he said.

"Well, you're the smarter one now," she said, trying to smile despite that she wanted to cry again. Ron stared at her, and she looked away, blushing. "Sorry. I thought I could make a funny comment. Try to be the one to lower the tension with a joke."

"Hermione, I'm not smarter than you."

"But your knowledge —"

"I've got more knowledge, yes," confirmed Ron. "And so what? Essence gives it to me. I can get it from it. It is true that I can make Essence think for me, help me solve things, but my intelligence depends on my brain and soul, so I am as intelligent as I was, no more, no less. Think of it as if I were connected to the internet," said Ron. "I could get any information, even get help to solve problems. But I wouldn't be more intelligent for it. Do you get it?"

"Yes," she said weakly. They stood in silence for a few seconds, and then she asked. "So — so now what? What are we going to do? About ourselves."

Ron's face turned more serious. "First of all, I've got to kill Sbalkal. It doesn't make sense to make plans about us until that is done."

"But you tried," Hermione said. "And — and he won, Ron. What if —?"

"I'm more powerful now," Ron replied. "And I've learned. I understand things I didn't twenty-four years ago."

"But what if that isn't enough?" she said, voicing her fears.

Ron stared at her so intensely that she had to tear her gaze away.

"It's got to be," he said. "I've got to defeat him, Hermione. The things he said he would do to you all if he kills me ... I can't let him."

Hermione gulped, and nodded. She wanted to change the subject.

"Can — can I ask you a question?" she asked.

"Anything."

"Why didn't you come sooner? When Mathery and the others broke into our home?"

"I tried to," said Ron. "But Sbalkal had become more powerful. I had to conceal myself and the dimensional haven I was in, and so it took me longer than I had expected to teleport me here. I felt that he was more alert than usual. I wanted to come here the moment they broke into our house, but because of the measures I had to take, I was late. You see, this is complicated. The timeline must be coherent. I didn't know that concealing my travelling would take so much time. But I knew I would be late, so I tried to be ready and come here when they broke into our house. Teleporting in the way I did so Sbalkal couldn't trace me delayed me, and that's why I ended up arriving when I did. If I had tried to come here when I knew I would arrive, I'd be really late and you would be dead. That wasn't possible, because I _remembered_ you being saved. So you see, I _tried_ to come sooner because I knew I'd be late, and doing so, I arrived at the moment you had told me I'd arrive."

"That's really complicated," said Hermione.

"It is," Ron agreed. "These things gave me a few headaches. But being connected to Essence and having Pyret's knowledge helped me to understand it. I wish I didn't have to understand some, though," he added.

"What do you mean?"

"I let things happen, Hermione. Things I knew should happen so in the end we could win, so we would end up being what we were. And I know it was the right thing to do, and yet ..." he shook his head. "This power, this knowledge, can be an immense burden. You've got to make terrible choices sometimes."

"I'm sorry."

"It's a bit like when we escaped from Lovegood's house. We knew that by doing so we were putting him and Luna in danger, but we did, because it was the right thing to do. The difference is that I feel the consequence of my actions, Hermione. When Sbalkal destroyed Azkaban I had to feel the despair of a mother and a child ... or many mothers and children and families."

"Oh, Ron ..." she said, grabbing his hand and squeezing it reassuringly. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he said, shrugging. "There're lots of good things, too. Lots of good things out there, like feeling Rose grow up inside you. There's a lot of love in this world, Hermione, and I promised Anwar I'd protect it."

"And we'll do it," Hermione said, determined. "Whatever we — we are right now, Ron, we are still best friends. And I love you. And we'll face this together, as always."

Ron nodded.

"And what are we going to do, then?"

"I already took care of the Muggles, made them forget about the explosion," explained Ron. "Harry, Neville, Percy and the others have been talking to people. Ginny has contacted some friends from the _Prophet_. Tomorrow we'll take control of the Ministry. And then I'll have to find Sbalkal as soon as possible and defeat him. His powers grow more quickly than mine, so our time is limited."

"I'm scared, Ron."

"I know. Me too."

Hermione sighed. "We'd better go downstairs. See if the others are there."

"They are," Ron said. "And you haven't had dinner."

"Oh, yes," said Hermione. "I had almost forgotten."

With a last glance at Rose, they left the room. Hermione tried to avoid thinking about what would happen between her and Ron. There were more important things to focus on right now.

The moment they entered the living room, everyone focused their gazes on them, and Hermione couldn't help but blush. She could feel that they wanted to ask, but Mrs Weasley saved them.

"Now you're back I think we should have dinner. It'll be ready in a few minutes. Ron, you look thin — more than usual, I mean."

Ron smiled at her.

"I suppose I could eat something."

"Are you okay, Hermione?" Harry asked her in a low voice, his face full of concern.

"I am, Harry. Thank you."

"Is — is everything okay between you and Ron?" he asked.

"It's fine," she said, and he understood.

"We've send an owl to Charlie," Mr Weasley commented. "He will be delighted that you're back."

Ron nodded.

"I think we should celebrate Ron's return," Bill said. "And the fact that we're all alive, and that the Ministry will be free again."

"Yes, some Firewhiskey will do us good," George added.

"Yes," agreed Hannah, while Bill got glasses and a bottle.

Ron stared at her.

Hannah opened her eyes wide, and then stared at him in return.

"Really?" she asked.

"Really," he nodded.

"What?" Neville asked, looking at them in turn. "What are you talking about?"

Hannah looked at Neville, a reluctant smile on her lips. "I — I'm late, Neville. I thought it was because of the stress we endured these last weeks but — I'm pregnant."

"You're what?"

"Pregnant."

Neville opened his eyes wide. "Really?" he asked. "But —?" he looked at Ron, and then back at her. "How —?"

"Ron spoke into my mind," Hannah explained. "He told me I really shouldn't drink Firewhiskey."

"I didn't want to be the one to tell you you're going to be a father," Ron said.

"This — this is —" Neville stuttered, and then, grinning widely, he took Hannah into his arms and lifted her off her feet. "That's wonderful!" he yelled. "Me, a dad!"

"Now we _definitely_ have to celebrate!" George yelled, and while everyone congratulated the young couple, he and Bill began to give everyone glasses of Firewhiskey, except to Hannah, Ginny, Hermione and Audrey.

"This — this is so unexpected," was saying Neville. "I mean, we — we aren't even married. Gran will have a fit when I tell her."

"That is not important, Neville," said Ron. "Marriage, even with magic, means really nothing. It is your love which links you together and what gave life to your child."

"Do — do you know if it's a boy or a girl?" Ron nodded. "Never mind, don't tell me!" Neville added quickly. "I don't want to know."

And while all of them toasted and celebrated, Hermione got closer to Ron.

"This feels so strange," she commented. "A few hours ago I thought I had lost Rose, that we were all going to die, and now — now you're back, and we're celebrating. It reminds me the day we told them I was pregnant, before all of this started."

"Yes, I know."

"It is strange, thinking about that ... it feels like a lifetime ago."

"Hermione, the past is more than memories. It's something real, something that exists. It is something we create, and no matter what happens, it is always there."

"For you, maybe," Hermione said. "We don't see the world that way, Ron. We don't have your perception," she added, sadly. There it was again, another bit of proof of how different they were now.

"Let's not think about that now," he told her softly. "Tonight we are safe. Let's enjoy that, okay?"

"Okay," she said, and they joined their family and friends.

* * *

_Well, it felt good, after so many time, have Ron and Hermione together and kissing, even though their problems are not solved. And I suppose you'll be pleased that there's no cliffhanger this time, after so many chapters with them._

_See you next weekend!_


	29. The Veil

_Firstly, let me wish you all a Merry Christmas if you celebrate them._

_Secondly, I have to apologise for this long absence of almost a month. I had planned to publish when I had announced, but due to changes in my job I've been incredibly busy, and believe me that fiction was pushed to the bottom of my mind, I've been completely away from it._

_Fortunately, things are calmer now, and I've got a few days off next week, so I'll be able to publish regularly and — at last! — catch up with all the fics I read._

_As always, many thanks to **Kathy** for her help and patience._

_Enjoy the chapter!_

* * *

**PART III**

**TALES OF ETERNAL FIGHTS**

_**Chapter 29**_

**The Veil**

* * *

For a while, it had almost felt like old times. For a few hours, it had been as if Ron had never left, Sbalkal had never existed, and they were just a family celebrating that soon would welcome a new member, even if it was not strictly blood-related. Ron had eaten, though not with his usual eagerness, and talked. The subject of his years alone, or what they had endured meanwhile, had been avoided. It was as if he had left because of work or a long holiday. Looking at his face, with perfect skin, without a single crease or imperfection, it was easy to forget he was now the oldest of the Weasley siblings.

It had been a nice dream.

But now, while she lay on her bed, still awake, those things wouldn't leave her mind. She had been tossing around for over an hour, but sleep refused to come to her. She couldn't stop thinking that Ron was back, _her husband_ was back, after so long. It still felt a bit unreal, as if it had been a dream and she was still waking up and confused.

Once more, her thoughts wandered to the idea of having Ron with her in the bed. But he was still downstairs, in the living room. He had said he would go up later to his room, but she knew (and probably the others did too) that he was implying that he would stay there, as he no longer needed to sleep.

What would have happened if she had asked him to come to bed with her? Their relationship was now in an undefined state, to say the least. She wanted him with her. Yet, she also wanted to be alone. Would Ron have thought that she wanted sex if she had told him to come to bed? What was even more important: _Would she have expected sex if she had asked him to come? _She hadn't had any since that day before the trial, and thought that during the last months she had been too worried to think about that; Merlin knew she needed it. But could she have it? With Ron? _Did she want to?_

Then it crossed her mind that Ron, even if he didn't read her thoughts, maybe could sense her distress and doubts. She tried to push away those thoughts and empty her mind.

It was useless.

She tossed the sheets away from her angrily, and got out of the bed. Then she put a robe over her nightdress, checked that Rose was asleep and left the room.

The Burrow was in complete silence, and every light was turned off. She muttered '_Lumos_' and, with the help of the light coming from her wand, headed downstairs to the living room.

Ron wasn't there.

Her heartbeat quickened, and she started to panic. Had he left again? Had he gone alone to —?

_I'm outside._

She almost jumped, startled by the sudden intrusion, but then let out a sigh of relief. After a moment of hesitation, she opened the door carefully, trying not to make any noise, and got out of the house.

Outside, the garden was dimly lit by a full moon now partially hidden behind a thin layer of clouds. The only thing that disturbed the calmness of the night was a very light breeze. It was a bit cold, though, and Hermione wrapped her robe more tightly around her. She sought Ron with her eyes, and finally saw him, barely discernible in his black robes. She could only see his back and how the soft breeze ruffled his hair. He seemed to be looking into the sky, and Hermione just stood there, contemplating him, not knowing what to do, and feeling awkward and stupid. For heaven's sake, she had lived with this man for the last seven years!

_Not him_, her mind replied. _ A different — and much younger — version of him._

"Couldn't sleep, eh?" he spoke, breaking her line of thought.

"No," she answered, glad that he had talked first. She gave a few steps towards him. "What are you doing out here?"

"Searching for Sbalkal," he answered.

"Oh," said Hermione. "And ...?" she asked tentatively.

"I haven't found him yet."

"But you said that you could perceive him — that you could sense _anything_."

"And I can," said Ron. "But you don't have any idea of how big the Universe is, Hermione ... and that is just counting the three dimensions you can see. If Sbalkal were anywhere on this planet, or even in the Solar System, I'd have found him already, but he isn't."

"Yeah, it's logical," said Hermione, thinking about it and nodding. "I mean, he wasn't able to find you ..." An idea struck her, and she looked up at him. "Ron, he never found you ... and you said he is getting stronger, and that his powers grow more quickly than yours. He only has to wait! What if — what if you can't find him?"

Ron turned round and faced her. With his back to the moon, his face was now in the darkness, but even so she could feel him staring at her.

"Throughout history, Masters of Essence built several places, by collapsing some of the dimensions of the Universe and closing them around themselves. Usually it's done to the first six. Those regions are no longer within what you'd call 'observable Universe.' They're like Black Holes, just that you can't perceive them. The Masters built them so they had places to rest, somewhere to be away from everything. In those places, it is much easier for us not to feel, and to shut out the noise of the world. That's why they are so far from Earth. They were good places for training, too, without affecting this planet and other people. There were just seven havens before Pyret, but he loved building them, and made hundreds during his long life. Sbalkal knew some; Ørsya and Anwar knew others. That's why Sbalkal couldn't find me, because during my training we were hidden in one of those he didn't know. After my accidental travel to the past, I landed in the most hidden of them all. He tried to explore the entire Universe to locate me. And though detecting us is relatively easy when we're trained and our powers are developed, because we are like a bright light in the darkness; due to the size of the Universe, his maimed power and the fact that those havens _dim_ our light it was too difficult for him. And you see, while I saved you today, he escaped to one of those places, too. But the difference is that I've got Pyret's memories, so I know each and every one of those havens, and though it can take me a while, I'm fairly sure I'll end up finding him."

"And then you'll fight."

"And then we'll fight, yes. And only one of us will survive."

Hermione gulped.

"I'm frightened, Ron."

"So am I."

She stood silent for a while, not knowing how to ask the question whose answer she wanted and dreaded to know.

"Are you —" she gulped, "are you scared of death?"

Ron stared at her.

"I don't fear death," he said after a few seconds. "Not in the normal sense people do. I know what death is, and what it means. It is not the end. And yet ..." He made a small pause. "You know, Hermione, when we die, we lose our power. And there's so much to discover out there ... I might be fifty years old, but in a way I feel again like when I first began at Hogwarts and there was so much to see." He made a pause. "Hermione, if getting old means accepting you're gonna die, then I'm very old. We all are, I think. We all accepted that years ago. I think we can consider ourselves 'Masters of Death' now. But if getting old means you think you've lived a long life, then I'm still a very young child."

"But you don't have to die, Ron," she replied, and then added, "I will, though."

Ron looked at her again, and she blushed. Despite the darkness, she was conscious that Ron was aware that she was blushing, and that made her blush even more.

"I won't live forever, either. Even Masters of Essence must die. Eventually, we get tired. That happened to all the others, except those who are corrupted, like Sbalkal. For them, dying means the end of their power, and that's an idea they can't accept."

"You sound so mature now," she said, a hint of sadness in her voice.

Ron laughed, and despite everything, there was still something boyish, something incredible young in his laugh, and that made her smile. If he could still laugh that way, then maybe _her Ron_ was not entirely lost ... or was she fooling herself?

"Well, it's bound to happen, isn't it? I mean, I'm a father now, ain't I?"

"You are, yes."

"I've got years to get accustomed to it, you know, and it still feels strange ... When I was training, I used to watch you both, to see and feel her in your arms. I missed that so much when I was sent back in time. After being a father, I was in a world where my daughter didn't exist, and that was horrible. Perhaps the worst of it all."

"I know," Hermione said. "When I thought Dolohov had killed her, I wanted to die."

"It's different," Ron said. "Rose can't stop existing now. Even if she dies, her soul is eternal and indestructible. Remember what I told you, Hermione. We created her, and even if we are dead and she is alive, or the other way around, we are connected, even through the veil. But before ... she simply didn't exist, in any way."

Hermione didn't know what to say. The idea of an eternal soul was somewhat comforting; it always had been to her. Even when they were on the run, and death surrounded them, that knowledge had helped her to accept it. But regarding Rose, it was completely different. The idea of Rose dying was unbearable.

"You should go back to sleep. Tomorrow is gonna be a long day."

"Come with me." The moment the words left her mouth, she regretted them. It wasn't that she didn't want Ron in her bed ... but she wasn't sure she did want that, either. She could feel Ron's stare, and turned round, embarrassed. "Sorry, I —"

"Is that what you want?"

"I — I don't know what I want."

A few moments of heavy silence.

"You know I don't sleep."

"I know. Forget it. Keep searching," she said, talking very quickly. "We'll talk in the morning."

"Hermione —"

"It's okay," Hermione said, already walking towards the house. "Good night, Ron."

"Good night, Hermione," she heard him say before getting in the house and closing the door. The moment she did that, she ran upstairs, got in her room and threw herself on the bed face down.

What the hell was her problem? _'Come with me?'_ Just like that?

She sighed loudly, rolled over and stared at the ceiling in the darkness. Ron's words came back to her. _You know I don't sleep_. One of the things she had loved the most about being with Ron was to fall asleep and wake up beside him, or in his arms. But now — what? What if they got together again? Ron wouldn't sleep. Would she go to bed alone every night? Would Ron stay with her, but awake?

_Don't think about that, don't think about that! _she told herself. _There are more important things to take care of now ... Like ensuring that Rose will survive ... and live in a free world ..._

And she lost herself in dreams of a world in which Sbalkal didn't exist, Ron wasn't a Master of Essence, and they were a normal family with normal problems living a normal and wonderful life ...

— — o — —

Hermione woke up with a start, and she sat up instantly, feeling momentarily disoriented. She looked all around her and saw that Rose was also awake and apparently very hungry. She moved to get out of the bed, and she realised she had fallen asleep on top of the sheets.

"Well, at least we're in summer, not in winter," she said to herself while she got closer to Rose's cot. Once there she bent over and took her in her arms. "Hey, sweetheart," she whispered lovingly, cradling her softly. "Shhh, it's okay, Mummy's here and is going to feed you."

And while she breastfed her, all that had happened the day before came to her. Ron had come back when all hope was lost, and was immortal, and had to find and defeat an equally immortal enemy ...

She had to grip Rose harder to not let her fall.

"My head's a mess, Rosie," she said, more to herself than to her daughter, who, of course, didn't pay any attention and kept sucking hungrily.

Twenty minutes later, both dressed, they went downstairs. It was still very early, but it was a very important day and almost everyone was already up. In the kitchen, Mrs Weasley was busy preparing breakfast, with the help of Hermione's parents. Harry was at the table, with Bill and Fleur, and Ron was leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen. She stopped dead, and took a moment to drink in his presence. It still seemed unbelievable that he was there.

But almost immediately, he turned his head to look at her, and the moment was broken.

"Good morning," she said to everyone.

"Hi, honey," her mother greeted her. "Are you all right? Did you sleep well?"

"Yes," she said. She looked at Ron, and he shook his head.

"I haven't found him yet."

"Oh," she said. "Well, you — you will." She _knew_ he had to find him, that the longer it took, the worse it would be. But another small, childish part of her simply wished he never did, so that they could live like this, safe, forever ...

"Let me hold Rose, so you can have breakfast," Ron said.

Hermione nodded and Ron took the little child in his arms. A big grin appeared on his face, and Hermione couldn't help but smile, too.

"Hey, my little Rosie!" said Ron, holding the girl by her armpits, raising her and pulling her towards his face until their noses touched. Rose let out a laugh and tried to catch Ron's long nose with her tiny hand. "Hey, that's Daddy's nosey!" he said. "And it's one of his most handsome features!"

Hermione was mesmerised by the scene. And she realised, suddenly, that everyone had stopped doing what he or she was doing and was watching them. But a second later, Mr Weasley opened the door and walked into the house, breaking the magic of the scene.

Hermione sat down beside Harry. Ginny, Percy, Audrey, George and Angelina joined them almost immediately, and soon they were all eating, while Ron played with his daughter. Nobody talked much. Hermione knew that it was partially due to the fact that today was a critical day, but the main reason was that they were just watching Ron.

When breakfast was over, Ron asked all of them to join him in the living room. Silently, they followed him. Almost at the same time, the fireplace lit up with green flames, and Neville and Hannah came out of it.

"Neville ...?" asked Harry, surprised.

"I told him to come," explained Ron. "Soon, people will begin to arrive at the Ministry. The _Prophet_ will be delivered, and people will know that Sbalkal's men are imprisoned. However, not all of Sbalkal's supporters are in prison. There are others. And I won't let you be in danger."

"You'll come with us," said Harry.

"No, I won't."

"No?" asked Harry, surprised. He frowned. "Why not?"

"The Ministry is your thing, Harry, not mine."

"You're an Auror!"

"Not anymore."

"But —"

"It took me time, Harry," interrupted Ron, "but I've accepted what I am. And my obligations go beyond that of the Aurors. I can't commit myself to one Ministry or one government. Besides, I've got more important things to do. If I don't stop Sbalkal, what you're doing today will be useless." He made a very brief pause. "What I meant is that I'll make sure no one harms you."

"How?" asked Percy.

As an answer, Hermione felt a sudden and strange tingling sensation on her skin that vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

"What was that?" said Ginny, looking at her hands. "I felt something."

"Me too," added Mr Weasley.

"I've changed the vibration of the Essence that constitutes you. Basically, you're protected against any attack. No curse or weapon can damage you now."

"You mean we're _indestructible_?" Hermione asked, amazed.

"Not exactly. This won't protect you from Sbalkal, but no one else will be able to hurt you."

"Well, that'll make things easier, though I hope we don't get to the point of needing it," said Harry. "Thanks, Ron," he added, although it was evident that he was disappointed because Ron wouldn't go with them. "We'd better get going."

"Will you take care of Rose?" Hermione asked her parents and mother-in-law.

"Of course," said her mother. "Be careful."

"Well, we don't need to be careful, do we?" she replied, with a quick glance at Ron.

The fireplace burst into green flames.

"Connected to the Ministry," Ron said.

"Let's go," said Harry, determined, and without more delay, walked into the flames and vanished. Neville went just behind him, then Percy, Mr Weasley and finally, she.

The moment she stepped out of the fireplace she was hit by the noise of a thousand conversations. She looked all around and observed that the Atrium was crowded. Many of them were holding _The Prophet_, and she could see the headline on the front page: 'DEATH EATERS IMPRISONED. SBALKAL FLEES.'

For a while, they watched the scene, until people started to notice them. Someone shouted their names, which were then echoed among the crowd. And as the news of their presence there spread, a tense silence fell over the room.

"Is this true?" someone asked out loud, raising the newspaper.

"Yes," said Harry, walking forwards. "Sbalkal has fled. The Death Eaters he rescued from Azkaban are now in Hornwall." As he said that, the other Aurors that had had to hide for having taken part in the raid of Sbalkal's manor appeared in the fireplaces and surrounded Harry, backing him. "It is necessary to appoint a new interim minister that will establish normalcy again."

Some people cheered and clapped. Others, however, looked wary.

"And where is Wilson?" asked a young man. "He is Chief of the Auror Office."

"He and another two Aurors were murdered by the Death Eaters," explained Mr Weasley.

"What!?" another man in Auror robes asked. "He was loyal to them!"

"And when has that been a reason for the Death Eaters not to kill anyone?" yelled Hermione. "That's proof that under a regime like that one, even with promises of freedom, no one is safe! We must rebuild the Ministry like we did after the other war. We all worked so hard to make reforms, and to build a fairer system!" No one dared to contradict her. "Harry was the true Chief of the Auror Office before Sbalkal took over, and I strongly suggest he should be considered to fill that role now and lead this transition." Harry threw her a surprised — but not too much — look.

"You say that the Death Eaters are imprisoned," commented a middle-aged witch Hermione knew worked in the Department of International Magical Cooperation. "But what about ... Sbalkal?" she asked, saying the name in a tone so low it seemed a whisper. "_The Prophet _says he fled. Who made him flee?"

"S — someone made him flee," said Harry.

"Who?"

"Someone," repeated Harry, his tone indicating they shouldn't ask more.

"But how do we know he won't come back?" added the woman. "He will punish us!"

"He doesn't care about any of us," said Harry. "And yes, he will come back, but it is not in our hands to stop him. The one that can is already taking care of that."

"Well, sorry, Mr Potter," intervened another man. "I can't speak for others, but what you say doesn't make me feel very safe." Several whispers agreed with him.

"No one can assure your safety," admitted Harry. "But serving him won't, either, and as Hermione said, Wilson is the proof. Anyway," he added, raising his voice, "safe or not safe, we will fight for what is right."

"As it must be," said then Mrs Addler, Hermione's boss. "Though this time there hasn't been a repression campaign like during Voldemort's reign, I've got to say I'm ashamed of what happened. And as the highest ranked official in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, along with Harry Potter, and a member of the Wizengamot, I will convene an extraordinary session to appoint a new interim Minister."

"Okay, then," said Percy, speaking loudly. "Everyone go back to their jobs. We must regain normalcy! The highest ranked officials in every department must join us in the Wizengamot offices."

Some people lazed about for a bit in the Atrium, but, slowly, the crowd began to dissolve.

"I'm glad to see you're all right," declared Mrs Addler when she reached them. "Especially you, Hermione."

"I'm glad you're okay, too, Mrs Addler."

"Can you summon every member of the Wizengamot?"

"Of course."

"We need a candidate for Minister," said Aldus Humpton.

"Well, I've got mine," said Mrs Addler, as they began to walk towards the lift.

"Who?" asked Mr Weasley.

"You, Arthur," was the response.

— — o — —

"Is everything all right?" her mother asked her the moment she walked out of the fireplace. She was sitting on the couch with Rose in her arms.

"It is now," Hermione answered with a smile. "The Ministry is again what it must be. There's a new minister."

"Who?" Mrs Weasley asked, coming out of the kitchen.

"Mathilda Addler," answered Hermione. "My old boss."

"Why her?" asked Mrs Weasley.

"Well, she wanted to appoint Mr Weasley —" began to say Harry.

"— But I refused," Mr Weasley finished.

"Why?" Hermione's father asked. "I think you'd make an excellent Minister, Arthur."

"Thank you," Mr Weasley said. "But I've never wanted to be Minister, and I'm too old for that."

"You aren't," replied Percy, serious. "I told you you should have accepted, Dad."

"I'm happy with what I do, son," said Mr Weasley with determination. "Forget about it. Mathilda will do the job perfectly well."

"Where is Ron?" asked Harry, looking all around.

"He left a while ago," answered Ginny from the stairs. "He told us he would be back soon. Hi, Harry," she added, kissing Harry on the lips when she reached him.

"He didn't say where he was going?" asked Hermione.

Ginny shook her head.

"He'll be okay," Mrs Weasley said, more to assure herself than the others. "He — well, he is so powerful now, isn't he?"

Nobody knew what to say, and a heavy silence filled the room until Ginny broke it.

"Did you have trouble at the Ministry?"

"No," said Harry. "Everything went rather smoothly. Some are still frightened by Sbalkal still being free, but knowing what had happened to the Death Eaters, that Sbalkal had fled and that some of the Aurors that worked for him had been murdered by his own men, made everything much easier."

"So you haven't had to test your invulnerability?" asked Ginny.

"No, it wasn't necessary," answered Harry.

Hermione saw something move outside through one of the windows, and moved towards it.

"Those Death Eaters are still in Hornwall?" she heard Bill ask, but she didn't hear the answer. She had got near the window and now could see that Ron was back, and had brought something with him.

The Archway.

"Ron's back," said Hermione, and moved towards the door.

"What?" Mrs Weasley asked, but Hermione didn't bother to answer, and stepped out of the house.

Ron was in front of the archway, contemplating it. He didn't acknowledge Hermione's presence, but it was obvious he knew she was there.

"You went to retrieve this?" she heard Harry ask from behind her. She didn't look at him, though, because she couldn't tear here eyes away from the swaying veil that hung from the archway. The other time she had seen this, all those years ago in the Department of Mysteries, she hadn't noticed it, but now she did. She could hear the whispers, the sound of voices on the other side, incomprehensible and yet they seemed to call her, to tell her to get close and cross the veil ...

She gave a step forwards.

"Focus, you all," she heard Ron say. She shook her head and tried to clear her mind. What had she been about to do?

"We all have lost somebody," Ron explained, looking at them. "That's why you feel attracted to the Archway. Don't listen to the whispers." He turned round again and looked at the old object. "Kuros was the first to call the barrier between the two sides of Dimension Zero 'The Veil'," he said, "because it made our perception of the other side 'veiled.' Pyret loved that comparison and that's why he put a veil in the Archway. This ragged veil represents the barrier, and makes it weaker, so, through it, we have an access to the other side we wouldn't have otherwise," Ron finished, and then fell silent.

"That's very interesting," said Harry after a few moments of silence. "But why have you brought it here?" he asked. "It's dangerous."

"I brought it here because — because there's something I need to do."

"What?" asked Hermione, who didn't like how that sounded.

Ron didn't answer. Instead, the veil began to move more violently, as shaken by an imperceptible stream of air, and Hermione felt a shiver run down her spine.

And then, suddenly and silently, a figure appeared just in front of the veil. The figure of a girl with short dark hair, a girl whose face Hermione had thought she wouldn't see ever again ...

"_Julie!_" she heard Ginny shout in shock.

Julie's ghost, or image, or whatever it was, simply looked around, as if she didn't know where she was or why she was there. She looked exactly like the last time Hermione had seen her, all those months ago (_had it happened just seven months ago? It seemed unbelievable_), except that she seemed to be _greyed_, or _veiled_.

"Ron," she said, somewhat surprised. "What am I doing here?"

Ron looked at her, his eyes shimmering, and dropped onto his knees in front of her.

"Julie, I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't do this. But I — I had to, Julie. I needed to talk to you — to tell you how sorry I am."

"You don't have to be sorry, Ron."

"I do!" he almost shouted. "Two times I watched you die, Julie, and none of those times was I able to save you."

"You couldn't have saved me."

"Not the first time," said Ron. "But when I went to the past I knew what would happen. I could have prevented you from going there."

"You know that's not true," Julie replied in a soft and calm voice. "If you had done that, I wouldn't have died. And if I wouldn't have died, how would you know you had to stop me from going?"

Ron opened his mouth, as if trying to look for an answer.

"Even so, I'm sorry. You were too young to die. You didn't deserve to die."

"I was too young," agreed Julie. "But I was killed because you cared for me. And I think it's better to be killed for being loved than for being hated."

"I miss you," Ron said.

"I know. I miss you too." She looked at them all, who were watching the scene with eyes the size of saucers, as if they couldn't believe what they were seeing, and finally focused her eyes on Hermione. "I'd have loved to have met your daughter."

"Oh, Julie ...!" Hermione moaned, feeling her eyes well up.

"You have been so brave, all of you," Julie continued. "I'm so proud that once you considered me family."

"We still do," Hermione said.

"I don't understand what's happening," Fleur said, astounded. "I mean — 'as — 'as Ron brought Julie back to life?"

"No," said Harry, his eyes fixed on Julie. "This is — this is like what I saw when — when I used the Resurrection Stone." He looked at Ron. "Did — did you find it?"

"I don't need to," explained Ron, who had got to his feet. "The stone was originally part of the Archway. But I know how it works, because I've got Pyret's memories, so I can do what the stone did. And you can see Julie because you all loved her — and because I want you to."

"But I don't belong here," added Julie. "Ron, you know that. You've got to let me go. This is not my place and I don't feel okay here. My soul is on the other side, and my conscience must be there as well."

"I know," Ron said. "But I've got something to ask you. But before that —" He extended his arms, and Rose appeared suddenly in them, barely awake. "You wanted to meet her," Ron said as an explanation.

A wide grin appeared in Julie's almost transparent face.

"Oh, Ron! Merlin, she's so beautiful," she said.

"Yeah," Ron said.

Julie moved her hand until it was an inch away from Rose's face, and then stopped. She knew she couldn't touch the child. An odd expression of longing appeared on her face.

"I'll never have children," she said.

Hermione felt her heart ache for Julie, for she was not ready to die when she had, and she would never have or experience so many things.

"Julie ..." she said, moving towards them.

"It's okay," Julie said, forcing a smile onto her face. "On the other side, you learn to accept things ... what's important here is not important there. She's really beautiful, Hermione."

"Thank you."

"You've got to protect her, Ron."

"I know," Ron said. "Julie, you are right. There're lots of things you'll never get, and that's so unfair." he added, guilt visible on his face. "Help me, Julie. Help me find him."

Julie looked him in the eye. "I don't know where he is, Ron. We don't know everything, on the other side. We can see, in some way, the people we love and care for, but it's not easy to watch others."

"I know," repeated Ron. "But he killed you. His soul sent yours to the other side, and that — that corrupted him. There is sort of a connection between you and him, Julie. With your help, I can find him more quickly, before it gets too late."

Julie didn't say anything, but just stared at Ron.

"Will you do it?" Ron continued. "He told me you were nothing, and that the fact that you were alive or dead wasn't important. Show him that's not true, Julie. Show him what a mistake he made by killing you."

"If I can help, of course I will. But I don't know how, Ron."

Ron smiled fondly. "I do," he said. "Thank you, Julie."

"Do I have to stay on this side?" she asked.

"No."

"Better," she said, looking relieved. "I loved seeing you all; I really did. But I don't belong here, and I don't feel comfortable."

"I'll let you go," Ron said with sadness. "Join Terry, and Kingsley, and all our friends he killed."

Julie nodded.

"I'll never forget you, Julie," Ron added.

"Neither will I," she said. "Despite everything ... I wouldn't change the moment I was assigned as your trainee. Hermione and you — well, all of you," she corrected herself, glancing over at them all, "made me feel like a part of your family. I'll always be grateful for that."

"I'm sorry, Julie," said Hermione, taking Rose from Ron's arms. "So very sorry."

"I've seen you with your daughter," Julie told her. "I'll go back with a very happy memory." She smiled at them, and then walked — or rather, _glided — _towards the veil. But before crossing it, she turned round once more. "Your brother is all right," she said, looking directly at George. "And he's happy for the way you're living your lives, and because you are all right and fighting."

Hermione saw George grab Angelina's hand tightly, and she put her other hand on his shoulder. Mrs Weasley, her eyes were shimmering with tears, let out a sob.

"Tell him we miss him," she told Julie.

"He knows," Julie said, and looked at Ron. "You look so different now," she told him. "I hope that deep inside you're still the same idiot I met, though," she added with a smirk.

Ron let out a laugh that was half a sob. "I can't lose my best traits, can I?"

"You'd better not," Julie said, and then, with a smile and a goodbye nod, she crossed the veil causing her image to dissolve.

* * *

_I hope you liked having Julie back as much as I did. I loved writing this chapter. The next one should be published before New Year._

_Again, Merry Christmas to you all._


	30. The Weakness

_First of all, Happy New Year to everyone. I know this chapter comes a bit late, as I had told you it would be published 'before New Year'. Well, I was a bit slow with the revision of the chapter, and then Kathy hasn't still sent the revised version to me, I suppose she's on holiday with her family, because I haven't received news from her. So yes, this chapter will be published un-beta-ed. Normally I wouldn't do something like this, but as I don't know when Kathy will be back, I don't want to make you wait anymore. You've waited a lot for the last two chapters. When Kathy answers me, I'll republish the chapter with the corrected version. Hopefully there won't be important changes, just corrections._

_So without more delays, the chapter._

* * *

**PART III**

**TALES OF ETERNAL FIGHTS**

_**Chapter 30**_

**The Weakness**

* * *

For a while, everyone just stared at the Archway and the slightly swaying veil, immersed in a sad silence that was finally broken by Mrs Weasley.

"Poor girl," she commented in a hoarse voice. "Always so kind. And she — she brought us news of — of Fred," she sobbed, and Mr Weasley embraced her.

"She looked ... fine," said Hermione, brushing her wet eyes. "But she shouldn't be there, with the dead, but with us. She didn't deserve to die."

"No, she didn't," growled Ron. "She didn't."

Hermione noticed him looking at the Archway and asked, "What — what are you going to do with it?"

"Keep it 'till I find Sbalkal. Afterwards ... Dunno."

"Speaking about finding Sbalkal ... You told me you'd be able to find him. Why did you ask for Julie's help?"

Ron frowned a bit. "I — I'm not sure as I was that I'll be able to do it in a reasonable amount of time," he explained.

"Why not?" asked Bill.

"I took a look into all those havens, those places we used to hide, train and rest. And I didn't see him."

"Could Sbalkal have created his own place?" suggested Hermione.

"No, not in the state he was in when he fled. But by now he surely has recovered. He is very powerful, and I think he's blocking me in some way. I suppose he's moving from one haven to another to avoid me, and time is on his side."

"So what are you going to do now?" asked Mr Weasley.

"Wait until they're ready," answered Ron. "And then hope that with their help I'll be able to find him. When that happens — I'll go after him."

A heavy, ominous silence fell over them after Ron's words.

"But that hasn't happened yet," said Mrs Weasley, breaking the silence. She was clearly relieved by the fact that Ron wasn't going to leave again soon. "So let's get inside, all of you," she ordered. "Dinner's almost ready."

"Everything's went well in the Ministry," commented Harry as they headed back in. "But I imagine you already know that."

"Yeah, I do," said Ron, nodding.

"I still find it curious that Sbalkal doesn't care about what we did," added Harry with a frown, sitting next to Ginny. "I mean, he put an effort to conquer the Ministry, had plans to subjugate the Muggle world ..."

"I told you, Harry," said Ron. "He can get all that back anytime. He doesn't care. What normal people think — and I include wizards in that definition — means nothing to him."

"Well, that's what we thought, after seeing him that day, in the meeting of the ICW," replied Harry. "But then, that interview ..."

"I told you that that interview was rather strange," said Hermione. "I mean, it didn't suit him — what we know of him."

"Can't we talk about something else, please?" asked Mrs Weasley as she put dishes and pots on the table. "I get _sick_ whenever someone mentions him."

"Yes, this is not the best talking to have during dinner," agreed Hermione's mother.

"Hermione, we don't really know him," said Harry while filling his plate with food.

"We _know_ that he doesn't care about people," replied Hermione vehemently. "Ron said that, and we've seen it. Everything he did was to recover his lost power; he never cared for anything else. Even after taking over the Ministry he didn't do anything. But that interview ... I don't know, it's as if he wanted _recognition_. But why, if he says he's immortal and we are nothing to him? For once, it was as if he wanted to be in the spotlight!"

"Well —" started to say Harry, but was immediately interrupted.

"Hermione is right," said Ron, his eyes fixed on her.

"Am I?" she asked, a bit surprised.

"Yes," Ron said, his expression thoughtful. "That interview makes no sense at all. I've wondered, all this time, why did he try to take over the world. His objective, his only desire, is to be the last Master of Essence, to be as powerful as it is possible to be. So why bother about subjugating people? Even after Pyret's dead, during his war against the other Masters, he never tried to do something like this. So why did he do it this time?"

"Well, he had a war to win back then, hasn't he?" suggested Harry.

"He believed, before his battle against Ørsya and Anwar, that he would win. He knew he was more powerful. But still, he didn't care about people. This time was the same, he was sure he would beat me. But he tried to took over the world."

Harry opened his mouth, but then closed it again, not knowing what to say.

"It seems that his interests have changed since his return," summarised Hermione.

Ron stared at her again, with such intensity that Hermione felt the impulse to retreat.

"Yes, yes ..." said Ron, nodding his head. "Of course he has changed! I mean, I saw him get angry, even lose his temper!"

"And what about that?" asked Harry. "Everyone does that at some point, especially evil people. I mean, I remember perfectly well Voldemort's rages."

Ron moved his head so quickly that Hermione thought he might have broken his neck. He was now staring at Harry with the same intensity he had looked at her a moment before.

"THAT'S IT!" he yelled, startling everyone.

"Ron!" Fleur protested. "You almost gave me a 'eart attack!"

Ron didn't seem to have heard her. "That's it, that's it!" he was saying again. "Have I told you two you're brilliant?"

"What?" asked Hermione, bewildered.

"What do you mean?" asked Harry, frowning.

Ron got up, looking very excited.

"I — I've got to think, to be sure! But if I am ..."

"Ron, could you explain?" asked his father. "What have you discovered?"

"I can't explain yet," Ron said. "I need to think. But if my suspicions are true —"

"If your suspicions are true, then what?" asked Harry. "Ron? Ron!"

But Ron had already turned round and exited the kitchen.

"What's got into him?" asked Ginny.

"I don't know, I just hope it's good news," said Hermione.

Not knowing what Ron had discovered or what to do, they just finished having dinner. Then, before breastfeeding Rose, she went looking for him. She needed to know if everything was okay, and her head was spinning with the wildest theories. However, Ron was nowhere to be found. He seemed to have left The Burrow.

"You — you don't think he went to fight him alone, did you?" asked Ginny, mirroring her worry.

"I don't know," said Hermione in a low voice. "Maybe."

"He wouldn't!" shouted Harry.

Hermione stared at him. "He would," she replied. "And you know it, because you would, too."

Harry opened his mouth, as if wanting to retort, but then closed it, knowing Hermione was right. However, a moment later he added, in a low and sad voice, "I promised him I'd be with him, even if I couldn't help."

"Oh, Ron!" moaned Mrs Weasley, voicing what all of them were feeling.

— — o — —

He was conscious of everything: of the microscopic drops of water that constitute the clouds touching and damping his body; of the particles of air freezing his face; of the thousands of hearts beating miles below him, whose owners were unaware of the crucial thoughts that filled his mind.

Because though he was aware of all those things as he floated over the clouds, his mind was focused only on Sbalkal. While he floated, weightless, he had concentrated like never before, conscious of the responsibility he had. Because if his theory was right then there was a weakness where he previously had believed there was none ... and that weakness meant a true possibility of finally defeating him and winning, of ensuring that the world would be safe — that his family and friends would be safe.

He hadn't thought about what would happen afterwards, if he won. As a Master of Essence, he didn't need to care for his own future. He could get anything he would need, if it was material. And for those things that weren't — well, he preferred not to think about them.

He knew that wasn't the right attitude, that he should make plans. But the truth was that he felt a bit better not doing so. It made him feel a bit like when he was a teenager, just a normal, average student at Hogwarts, when it was easier to let things come than to prepare for them. Though, of course, back then he had Hermione, who always made sure to remind him about what he should do ...

Hermione. It had been her, during the horcrux hunt, what had made him think seriously about the future for the first time. It was strange, that he would remember that just when his chances to ever have a future were so little. And yet his years living as a Master had taught him that humans usually thought about important things when they had lost — or were about to lose — them. Whatever the reasons, he had found himself, frequently, thinking about his life before falling asleep in the tent that had become their home. Thinking about a career, about what he would do, about what kind of job would he talk to Hermione about when they both arrived home in the evenings. Oh, yes, he had decided to be an Auror years before, right? No, the truth was that he hadn't _really _decided anything. He had just gone along with things, with the glamorous idea of being an Auror with Harry. But if he was sincere, he had to admit that he had never thought about his future past the moment of finishing Hogwarts. That was the true goal. Not even his NEWT results mattered much to him. Fred and George were the only ones among his brothers whose results he had a chance to improve, and they had not taken them.

But then, when he was out of Hogwarts, in the run, doing something crucial to win the war; then had been when that future he had never thought about seriously had become so real, just when it was so unlikely to get.

And yet in the end he had got it: they had won, he had become an Auror, he had married Hermione and built a nice house. They had got pregnant, and now they were parents. He had everything he had ever desired, didn't he?

No.

Yes, he had all that: Hermione, a daughter, a house, a family. But they were like water in his hands, it didn't matter how strongly he could press his fingers together, it fell from them drop by drop. That was exactly what would happen to all the things he loved: they would leave him drop by drop, or, in this case, year by year.

Hermione was twenty-six. Would be twenty-seven in a few weeks. And in a few years she would turn thirty, and then forty, fifty, sixty ... Before turning into a Master of Essence that had felt like a lifetime to him — hell, it _was _a lifetime! But now, those sixty, seventy years she might live felt like seconds to his immortal and extraordinarily powerful soul. A lifetime no longer was enough.

Oh, yes, he could _age_ with her. He could change his body, make it match hers and grow old, but both would now it was just a lie, because it didn't matter what his body looked like. And even if he did that, what would happen when she died? He could decide to die with her, but could he _do_ it? If she died of natural death, she would be ready to go on, but even if he missed her, he was almost sure he wouldn't be ready, that he would want to live, to see more things, to discover more secrets —

He opened his eyes, and tried to shake those thoughts off his head. None of that mattered now. First, he had to win, he had to defeat Sbalkal, and using that weakness Harry and Hermione had helped him realise that existed was his best shot.

There was only an issue. He wasn't going to be able to do it alone. He was going to need help. Concretely, their help, especially Harry's. And though he knew Harry would be glad to do it, he dreaded getting them involved. If it were on his hands, he would take Sbalkal and they would fight alone, in the most distant place they could go.

But that wasn't going to happen, so he would have to confide that his powers would be enough this time. Sbalkal had barely changed, as only one day had passed for him since their fight; but Ron's power had grown for twenty-four years, and during that time he had come to understand loads of Pyret's knowledge.

It was time to seek the help of Sbalkal's victims, people he had known and loved, go after him, and then defeat him once and for all.

He opened his eyes and just let himself fall through the clouds until he was only ten feet above the ground, then slowed down and landed softly in the garden, next to the Archway, whose veil kept swaying slowly.

He looked at the house. He could perceive the nervousness and worry that filled the people he loved. They all feared he had left to confront Sbalkal on his own, and the feeling warmed him and made his lips curve into a smile. It was something wonderful to know you are loved, but to feel it was something completely different, something absolutely amazing.

He let them know he was in the garden, and a moment later the door opened and Harry walked out, followed by Hermione, his parents and the rest of the family.

"You're here!" Harry shouted, relieved. "We fear— we thought you had left to go and find him, alone," he added in a lower tone.

"I was flying," he explained. "It relaxes me." He made a pause and looked at the Archway before adding, "But now they are ready, Julie and the others. I would have done this on my own, but if my theory is right, and I think it is, I'll need your help."

— — o — —

"Our help?" asked Hermione, confused. "But — you said we can't do anything against him."

"And that's true," confirmed Ron. "I can't explain what I need from you now. You can't conceal your thoughts from him and I don't want him to know."

He fell silent, still staring at the Archway, and Hermione noticed him exhaling slowly, as if accepting something horrible about to come. She felt a shiver run down her spine. The moment had come, the time to fight the most terrible enemy they had ever faced.

The veil began to shake, more and more violently, and Hermione shuddered. Something cold and yet familiar seemed to be filling the air around them, and by the faces and gestures of the others, she wasn't the only one to notice it. Hermione saw Ginny wrap her arms around herself and Fleur lean against Bill as though seeking his warm.

Ron looked up, but he was not seeing. His mind was far away, staring into the vastness of the Universe, looking for Sbalkal with the help of those killed by him. For a few but long minutes he remained completely immobile, while all around them the air seemed to become colder and colder. A strong wind shook them, making them shudder. Only Ron, now with his eyes closed, didn't seem to notice it. Hermione tightened her robes around her and watched him. He was mumbling something, but she couldn't make out the words. Was he speaking to the dead?

And then he opened his eyes, an expression of triumph etched onto his face.

"There you are."

But as suddenly as the expression of triumph had come, it was gone, turned into one of fear.

"GET INTO THE HOUSE!" he shouted, startling them all.

"What?" asked Mr Weasley. "What's hap—?"

There was a sudden explosion, and all of them were thrown backwards. Hermione's head hit the wall of the Burrow, but, surprisingly, she felt no pain. She remembered that Ron had made all of them almost invulnerable, but this thought was soon forgotten when she saw what had caused the explosion.

Sbalkal, the living nightmare, was there, floating a few feet above the ground, his cloak flapping. His face reflected terrible fury, a fury that seemed to irradiate off him, crushing and rendering her almost frozen in fear.

Immediately, Ron put himself between his enemy and his family.

"You realised," he said.

"Of course I did," Sbalkal retorted, his tone reflecting the same anger that was visible on his face. "So, as you found me, taking away my advantage, I decided this time I would decide the place to fight. And I want it to be here," he added with a small, but cruel, smile. "I've got to congratulate you, though, Ronald Weasley. I didn't think you'd be able to find me. But I was, it seems, wrong." He looked at the Archway with hate, as if it had betrayed him. "I should have destroyed it when I finished with it. A mistake, I must admit."

"It wasn't the Archway, but the people you killed. People like Julie, of whom you said was 'nothing, not important'. And even in her death, she thwarted your plans!" Ron yelled hotly.

Sbalkal snorted disdainfully. "Twenty-four years have passed for you. And you claim that you've learned, that now you understand things you didn't in our first battle, but it's not true. You haven't learned at all. You keep making the same mistakes."

"What do you —?"

"Oh, yes, you used the Archway and the dead in a way I hadn't foreseen," Sbalkal said, interrupting Ron. "That was a great move on your part," he admitted. "But the question is not finding me. The question is, can you defeat me?"

"There's a reason you wanted to wait, to stay hidden," replied Ron. "My powers have increased. And so has my understanding of Essence, despite what you say."

"Oh, yes, your powers have grown. Mine, on the other hand, are the same than yesterday, when we fought. I'm completely recovered, but it has only been a day for me. Time is on my side, Ron. My powers grow much faster than yours. So yes, I was planning to wait until I was sure I could crush you. Why should I take any risks, when I'm so close and I've got all the time in the Universe?" he asked. "Maybe you're more powerful than me now. But, is that power enough to kill me? You've underestimated me once, I wouldn't do it again. Never forget that I'm a naturally gifted Master of Essence, not someone with a potential slightly above the average, that got his powers due to an accident and the help of others greater than him!"

"Your insults mean nothing to me, so you can save them," replied Ron in a tired tone of voice, and then added, "You knew I was the cloaked man. You knew all along. How did you find out? And why didn't you say anything?"

Sbalkal laughed.

"Of course I knew," he answered. "But you were a headache for me for a long time, I won't deny it." He fixed his eyes on Ron, staring at him almost avidly. "When you appeared, all those years ago, I felt fear for the first time in centuries. My plan was going well, Voldemort was splitting his soul, Anwar was hiding and weakened. The day in which I would recover my powers was near — for a Master of Essence, at least. But then, then you appeared; an unexpected variable. Someone arrived from nowhere, a new Master of Essence. Who were you? What did you want? I couldn't see you and you hid your face from everyone. You were an undetermined threat to me, one I couldn't measure." He descended to the ground and began to walk slowly, his eyes always fixed on Ron. "During the next years I tried to uncover your mystery. Sometimes I could feel your presence, sometimes I couldn't. It wasn't until ten years had passed that you appeared again, physically, on Earth, to watch and help Harry Potter and his friends, the ones that, one day, would defeat Voldemort, allowing me to take over his soul. But why were you helping? Why didn't you take his maimed soul away, to where he couldn't harm anyone, but didn't need to be killed? Why didn't you attack me? What you were doing helped me in the end. Were you doing that on purpose? But why would you, when my plan was to become the only one Master? I'd have to kill you in the end. All these questions were driving me insane.

"And then, the night Voldemort was killed and I took the last piece of his _sôhr_ into me, I observed you, and felt it for the first time: something that resembled the potential of a Master, but strange and concealed. That night I couldn't see more, as I was in a battle to dominate Voldemort's soul. But I have to admit that such discovery worried me. Were you another threat? Was my plan, so carefully laid all those years ago, going to fail because of two unexpected variables? Not without a fight.

"And so, months later, when I had recovered and my power had grown due to the new soul attached to mine, I began to observe you more attentively. I looked into the past, and everything became clear to me. Pyret's brain was behind it all. You had potential. Not enough to become a Master, but you had it. And it was growing. Pyret was helping you with that. Of course, my first thought was to just kill you. But soon I realised that the connection between you and the brain was too strong. Killing you would destroy it, and I wouldn't get the knowledge I needed to use the Archway. It was obvious that Pyret had planned it that way, but I went along; I let you live. But the other one, ah, the other one ... I spent days, and weeks, and months trying to decipher his mystery. Who was he? Where had he come from? Why did he seem weakened that first time? And the only explanation I could come with was that, if he was a Master of Essence, he must be a time-traveller. But who? Who would need to hide his face? Someone that had already been born. And who was the only one that could become a Master of Essence?" He stared at Ron for a few seconds before answering his own question. "You. But I wasn't certain, and I needed to be before acting. So when I was ready to execute my plan, I remembered the other thing I had discover about you that night of the last battle." His eyes moved until his gaze was fixed on Hermione. "The fact that you were completely in love with Hermione, that she was the person for whom you'd do anything, even things you would have sworn you'd never do. And that was the reason why Mathery and the others attacked her. Not to upset you, though it would also serve that purpose. Just to see what the other did. And you didn't disappoint me, Ron. You went there to save her. People died constantly. So why would a Master of Essence save you but not others? There was only one reason: he cared for you more than for anyone else. And so I knew. But of course I didn't tell you!" he added, looking at Ron again. "It was obvious that you believed I didn't know, and that you thought that was an advantage for you. By not revealing my discovery I turned that information into an advantage for me."

"But if you knew, why did you offer me joining you?" Ron asked, clearly affronted for having being outsmarted by Sbalkal during all that time. "Why did you let Hermione and the others live, if you knew I wouldn't accept? Or was that a lie?"

"I knew you'd end up in the past," said Sbalkal. "I didn't know how it would happen. Once I knew it was you, I studied all your appearances. Clearly you were weak that first time, at Godric's Hollow. You hadn't travelled to the past willingly. So maybe you had accepted and then fought against me, and something had happened. The fact that you had risked being discovered just to save Hermione proved to me, even more, that your greatest fear was to lose her, that you would do anything to save her life. I really believed you would accept, and even if the process didn't go as I had planned, I could get something from you. I was wrong in that, though," he admitted with a shrug. "Oh, I've playing a dangerous game, but I was, in the end, successful. I fooled you twice, Ron Weasley. And now only you, _one you_, stand between me and my goal of being the only one!" he finished, yelling.

"I am stronger," Ron insisted, and his body tensed.

"You are," Sbalkal said with a nod, "But you wanted to fight me far away, where our battle couldn't cause any harm. But not this time. We'll fight here. You'll be too worried about the possibility of killing someone of your family or the village. An obvious advantage for me."

Ron tensed and clenched his fists.

"We Masters of Essence don't have weaknesses," continued Sbalkal. "Except you," he added. "Your family, the people you love is your weakness. Even if you're a bit stronger than me right now, you can't fight me and protect them at the same time! You're doomed!" he yelled.

And then attacked.

— — o — —

Ron perceived his intention a fraction of a second before it happened. Sensing that his enemy didn't want to just attack him, but his family as well, he used his willpower to create sort of a barrier between them. But the force of Sbalkal's attack was too much, and despite Ron's efforts he was pushed backwards, and all the others were thrown across the air, landing in different parts of the garden, except Bill, that went through the window of the living room and hit the back of the couch.

Ron knew that he must attack immediately, but gave himself a second to check on the, especially on Ginny, as she was pregnant. He knew that, because of the way he had changed them, an attack like this could not harm them, but even so he couldn't help but worry.

"Oh, you think you have them protected, don't you?" sneered Sbalkal. "Maybe they can't be physically or magically hurt, but they're not safe from me! And then there's the people of the village. A strong attack, a powerful explosion, and they will suffer the consequences of our fight. Consequences, I remind you, that could have been avoided if you had joined and surrendered to me when I asked!"

"I won't let you hurt anyone else!" yelled Ron, though in truth he felt very worried about what their fight could cause other people. Their battle in the North had damaged and finally destroyed an entire island. And he was even more powerful now.

"Ron, tell us what to do!" yelled then Harry, breaking his train of thought. They all had got up, unscathed.

"Check on Rose!" was his answer, though it was destined to Hermione. And then concentrated all his power and will on Sbalkal's body, on the connection between it and his soul, and _pushed_.

Sbalkal screwed up his face in pain, and tried to defend himself. Without looking at her, Ron perceived Hermione going into the house and focused even more on Sbalkal.

Yes, he — Ron — was now more powerful. Not much more, but a bit. But Sbalkal's power over his own body was still stronger. What Ron was doing wouldn't be enough to break the entity formed by soul and body.

All around them, a strong wind swept The Burrow and all around Ottery St Catchpole. The branches of the trees were creaking, and Earth itself seemed to be about to quake. The battle between the two Masters of Essence, though apparently just a battle of willpower, was slowly affecting the surrounding space, altering nature and magic.

"You — can't — defeat – ME!" shouted Sbalkal.

"I will, even if it's the last thing I do on this side of the barrier," replied Ron firmly.

"You're a fool!" yelled and Sbalkal, and, with a strong effort, he got free of Ron's power and rose up in the air faster than any Firebolt. Seeing this as an occasion to take their battle away from innocent victims, Ron followed him. But when he was about to catch him, Sbalkal turned to look at him, and Ron's instincts told him something bad was about to happen.

Barely a second later Sbalkal threw a small streak of energy towards the village. Horrified, and knowing than it had the power to blow it up completely, he concentrated on stopping it. He succeeded, but it gave Sbalkal time to attack him, and just as the streak of energy vanished, Ron was hit with a strong wave of force that sent him at maximum speed towards the ground, with Sbalkal descending after him.

But Ron was not the same Master he had been when they had fought the first time, and was able to steady himself, grab Sbalkal and turn them over.

A moment later, they hit the ground very forcefully, with Ron right on top of his enemy. Sbalkal's body broke. Ron sensed, more than heard, the yells and shrieks of fear from his family when they saw both of them impact against the ground.

"Don't forget I've got Pyret's knowledge," Ron told Sbalkal. "And now I've got more power, too. You won't play with me like last time!" He raised his right fist and threw it down against Sbalkal's face, but it just met the soft earth of the ground. Sbalkal had teleported to a place behind him.

Ron rose from the hole in the ground they had caused and spun round in the air, facing his enemy, whose body was, again, perfectly unharmed.

"And don't you forget that I'm much older, and that I've fought Masters of Essence much more powerful than you!" retorted Sbalkal. His face, however, reflected a fury Ron hadn't appreciated during their last encounter.

"But you aren't as powerful as then."

"I'll be," Sbalkal said softly, and a cruel smile appeared on his face. He looked around. "There are too many obstacles in this area," he commented. "We'd fight more comfortably in a plainer surface, don't you think?"

"I do," responded Ron, watching him carefully, more with his mind and soul than with his eyes. "Let's take this to one of the havens."

"Why?" Sbalkal replied. His smile widened. "We can just make this place plainer, can't we?"

A strong force began to emanate from Sbalkal, and Ron knew that he was about to release a shock wave that would destroy anything within hundreds of yards, maybe miles. Perhaps the inhabitants of The Burrow would survive, but the residents of Ottery St Catchpole wouldn't.

"I won't let you!" Ron shouted, and used his power to contain Sbalkal's. Rocks, pebbles, pieces of wood, earth and grass flew off the area surrounding Sbalkal as if a nuclear bomb had detonated there. But Ron was able to create a protective sphere that contained the shock wave, preventing it from causing more damage. However, when the barrier was hit, Ron had to concentrate to contain it, such was the power Sbalkal had put in the shock wave.

It resisted, but Sbalkal took advantage of Ron's momentary distraction to attack him. However, before he could act, three streaks of light reached him, spells that Ron's dad, Percy and Harry had cast.

None of them did really touch Sbalkal. He made them vanish, and then, with a simple thought, sent the three of them backwards against the house. It had barely cost Sbalkal time, but it was enough for Ron to prepare himself and resist Sbalkal's attack.

Sbalkal roared with fury, and looked at the house. Ron sensed in him a strong desire to kill them, and got ready to act.

"They're not as useless as you think, aren't they?" he taunted Sbalkal. "They can't hurt you, but can help me!"

"They're nothing just simple mortals!" Sbalkal replied. "That, and your weakness, as I've mentioned! And I think it is time for them to lose that protection, let's see what you do when they can be hurt by our battle!"

"And I told you I wouldn't let you do that!" Ron shouted back. "Now I've got the power to stop you!"

"And so what?" countered Sbalkal. "Maybe you can stop me, but you can't defeat me. Sooner or later, I'll be more powerful, and then you'll be history!"

"Yes, I can defeat you," replied Ron as calmly as he could.

"What?" exclaimed Sbalkal, and then he let out a laugh. "Oh, do you?"

"Yes, I do."

"Lying won't help you. Your power is not enough to prevent my soul from healing my body!"

"It wouldn't," said Ron, "if it weren't for the fact that you, too, have got a weakness."

Sbalkal laughed again. "Oh, you think so, do you? I was wondering when you would say that. I've watched you, Ronald Weasley, and I'm very well aware that you think you've discovered a weakness in me. But I am a Master of Essence, and we don't have weaknesses, except if you care for something else than what is important, no matter whether you want to protect humanity or rule over the entire Universe!"

Ron observed his enemy carefully, and studied him, looking beyond what was visible, into his soul.

"No, Masters of Essence usually don't have weaknesses," agreed Ron. "But you do. And it's got worse since our fight."

"WHAT? You must have gone mad, all those years alone and away from your loved ones. I'm as strong as I was yesterday!"

"You are. And you're right, your soul is strong as ever. The corruption it endured due to your despicable acts is not important, because, as a Master of Essence, you can protect it. But, unknowingly, in your attempt to be strong enough, you created some glitches in the protection of your soul."

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't you see yourself?" Ron asked him. "Yesterday you accused me of not being a good Master of Essence for losing my self-control. And today you're doing the same!"

"No," Sbalkal replied, but he had got suddenly very serious.

"And now you're doing it again, denying what is evident. That alone should make me see what I already know, if I hadn't discovered it. Because I already heard someone talk like you: Lord Voldemort, the very same night you took the last pieces of his soul."

Sbalkal opened his eyes, shocked, and Ron knew that great doubts were growing inside him.

"I don't talk like him," Sbalkal replied, trying to pull himself together. "He was nothing but a fool!"

"He was," agreed Ron, nodding. "And now you're making a similar mistake. You believed that you could take his soul, attach it to yours, and that nothing bad would happen, that it simply would make you stronger. But that's not true! Your soul is protected, yes! But through Voldemort's soul, and the others you took into you, there's a way to access yours! Don't you see it? These sudden surges of rage, the sudden desire to subjugate the world, when it had always been a secondary objective to you, are proof of what I am saying. Those are Voldemort's traits, and most of your servants had them, too! By having their souls attached to yours, you've changed! And now that you felt weak, you again recovered more quickly thanks to those souls, and that made you even more arrogant and stupid!"

"NO!" shouted Sbalkal, furious beyond reason. "NO! Those souls are now mine, _I_ control them!"

"You do," said Ron calmly, "but they're affecting you. And no, I haven't go power enough to destroy the affinity between your body and your soul, but through those other souls, it is possible to harm yours, as it is also corrupted by all the evil things you've done!"

"NO!" yelled Sbalkal again. "And even if you were right, it doesn't matter, it won't work! Whether that's true or not is not important, because you won't be able to take advantage of it!"

"You're right, I won't, not by myself," said Ron, and got ready to do what he had to do. He opened his mind to Harry, so he could understand what he was planning. "But for a long time, Harry had inside him a piece of Voldemort's soul. And though it is now inside you, there will always be some affinity between them, some connection. And there was nothing more painful to Lord Voldemort than to touch Harry's soul."

"You won't be able to do it!" screamed Sbalkal, and Ron sensed that he was getting ready to attack. But through his connection to Harry, Ron knew that he had understood what he wanted from him.

_Take and use it_, was Harry's thought.

And Ron focused on Sbalkal's soul, on those appendixes to which he hadn't paid attention before, those _sôhr_s that had been dominated and used by him. And among them all, he focused on the pieces of Voldemort's soul, and for the first time in nine years, they touched Harry's.

Instantly, Harry fell onto his knees and raised his hand to press his scar, consumed by pain. Ron hear Ginny shout his husband's name, but focused on how Voldemort's soul suffered at the contact as well. A moment later, Sbalkal let out a terrible yell, his own soul tortured through Voldemort's. He used all his power to push and fight against Ron, but Ron didn't give up and kept his ground, determined to hurt him so much that if would be easier to break his affinity and send his soul to the other side.

As Ron focused more and more in his enemy's soul, he let his own feelings touch the core of Sbalkal's soul. And his love for all those that had been killed, Julie, Kingsley, Terry, and so many others, flooded his enemy, hurting and weakening him. Sbalkal replied to this with a terrible scream. The earth quaked, lightning bolts fell from the sky, the windows of The Burrow exploded, and some trees creaked and burst into flames.

But Ron didn't recede, and kept pushing, using his power to contain his enemy's. This, while he connected Harry's and Voldemort's soul, consumed all his power, and he felt as if the darkness were closing on him. All his senses, all his power was now concentrated on Sbalkal, and he couldn't see or perceive anything else.

"STOP! STOP!" Sbalkal screamed. His desperation was now evident to Ron. "STOP OR YOU'LL REGRET IT!"

_You'll be the one who regrets it, _said Ron mentally, as he was even unable to move his body. _You could have been great, could have done so much good, with your power and knowledge. But chose a selfish path, did so much evil than can't ever be undone. It is time to pay._

"NO!" was the violent reply. A heavy stone rose from the ground and flew towards Ginny. Ron couldn't do anything to stop it. He now had Sbalkal where he wanted, about to collapse, and the smallest lapse of concentrarion would allow him to escape. A stone wouldn't hurt Ginny.

It didn't even touch her. She moved her wand and the stone vanished in mid-air.

Sbalkal screamed again. His resistance seemed to give way, and Ron couldn't help but feel a surge of joy and hope. He was winning! Sbalkal's power was crumbling, and he would be able to, at long last, destroy him and banish him from this side of the veil.

But then, Sbalkal, with his face screwed in pain, smiled.

_Let's see ... let's see if you are, as you claim, stronger — or if you're weakness is worse than mine._

Ron frowned, not understanding what his enemy meant, but before he could explain, he had the sudden feeling that something was wrong, though, concentrated as he was on Sbalkal, couldn't know what it was, until he heard Hermione's desperate voice.

"R-Ron! _R-Ron, it's R-Rose!_"

As quickly as he could, which was not much, he turned his head, and saw Hermione running towards him from the house. She was carrying Rose in her arms, and thick tears were running down her face. Ron noticed very quickly that something was wrong with his daughter: her face was almost purple.

"She can't breathe!" yelled Hermione in anguish. "I tried every spell I know of, but it's useless!"

Ron focused again on Sbalkal, the reason of his smile now out in the open. He had concentrated what he could of his power in hurting Rose, and only his power, Ron's could save her — but to save her, he would have to release Sbalkal a bit.

_And so this is the dilemma, isn't it? _said Sbalkal defiantly. _You said you've learned, but, is it true?_ _You can defeat me, that's true, but before you do, your daughter will be dead. I am the worst evil in the world, I've never denied it. You were ready to sacrifice yourself to stop me. But — can you sacrifice your daughter for the sake of others?_

Ron simply stared at him, and the worry and love for his daughter made Sbalkal scream in pain even more. But it was not enough. That wasn't enough to save Rose.

Rose's life against the defeat of Sbalkal.

"Ron, p-please, tell me what to do!" yelled Hermione.

He felt a tear run down his face.

He turned his concentration and power towards Rose, and undid what Sbalkal had done. Fresh, much needed air entered the little child's lungs.

Harry let out a yell and fell to the floor, clutching his head in pain. Sbalkal, taking advantage of Ron's lapse of concentration upon him, released himself and jumped backwards, falling to the ground, his body shaking.

Ron, now feeling the consequences of the efforts he had made, fell to his knees, exhausted, and looked at his enemy.

"You haven't, it seems, learned at all," he muttered, staring at him with hate, but also with disdain. "You had me, Ronald Weasley, but I won't make the same mistake twice."

And with his last ounce of energy, he vanished.

* * *

_And here it is! Someone told me that, without weaknesses, Masters of Essence would be like gods. Technically, they are. A normal Master of Essence doesn't have any weakness, except if someone is stronger. But Sbalkal does have a weakness. Those souls that helped him recover his power mean also a weakness, a point through which his own powerful soul can be attacked._

_And Ron, with the inestimable help of Hermione and Harry, realised this. But of course it wasn't enough. Sbalkal's too old, too intelligent, and Ron was faced with a terrible decision. Did he do the right thing, letting him go to save Rose? Difficult to say. Technically it was a selfish decision, as many people could die at Sbalkal's hands now. You might feel sympathy towards Ron, as I do, and understand him, as I also do. But imagine that Sbalkal killed someone you love, and then you find out that he could have been defeated at the cost of only one life. Would you be so understanding?_

_It is now when the way the other Masters of Essence live seems the best option. And though they don't have children because they aren't inclined to (remember that, to them, their 'family' is the entire humanity), not having true attachments to specific people lets them do their job in a better way, as they cannot be blackmailed._

_What will happen now that Sbalkal knows about his weakness? Can Ron still defeat him?_

_I don't know when the next chapter will be published. As soon as Kathy is back I'll send the chapter to her. Hopefully it will be soon. When I publish the revised version of this chapter I'll tell you something._


End file.
